


A Song Among the Stars, Vol. 2 : The Bridge to Midnight

by curiousitydidmein, thecosmickid



Series: A Song Among the Stars [2]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Comics), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Collaboration, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-05-18 01:23:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 39,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14842899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiousitydidmein/pseuds/curiousitydidmein, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecosmickid/pseuds/thecosmickid
Summary: Now that Adam has made a place for himself with the Guardians, his presence is stirring up a lot of big questions for the whole team.  But running with the galaxy's most infamous heroes means that he's attracting plenty of attention- not all of it positive.  Meanwhile, Gamora continues to unravel the mystery that has been haunting her- and discovers a plot deeper and darker than even she anticipated.





	1. New Horizons

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks! We're back from hiatus and ready to jump right into part 2. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoy writing it :)

Sitting on the apartment balcony to watch the twin suns set behind Xandar's impressive skyline, Quill felt completely at peace.  The late summer air was moved by a leisurely breeze, which brought sweet flowery scents up from the park below. A few units over, someone was barbecuing. And beside him on the balcony, reclined in a plastic pool chair, was the being he had decided was the love of his life.  Quill turned to grin drowsily at Adam, who felt the gaze on him and gave a demure smile from under his sunhat. He was aglow in the rosy light of dusk.

"You want another drink?" Quill asked, looking at Adam's empty glass.

"I've had quite enough," Adam replied, sitting up a bit.  He reached out to find Quill's hand, dangling over the arm of his chair, and held it tight.  Quill purred.

The glass door of the apartment slid open suddenly.  They both turned to find Drax leaning out. "I've just spoken to Richard."

"Did he find her yet?" Quill responded, sitting up.

"No.  He reports that her sister has been very unhelpful."

"No surprise there."  Quill let out a sigh. They hadn't seen Gamora in almost three weeks.  She had stayed behind on Knowhere with Nebula and her Ravager crew following a run-in with a member of the Universal Church of Truth.  Shortly thereafter, she had vanished without a trace. Although she had sworn Drax to secrecy on the matter, her disappearance had prompted him to tell Quill what he knew.  Now, it seemed, no one had any idea of her whereabouts- and while Quill trusted that she was able to look after herself, he couldn't help but be worried. From what he had been told about the Church, their power was immense and their influence uncanny.

"How's Richie?" He asked.

"Anxious."

"One can hardly blame him," Adam said.  "I find it strange that Gamora would chose to exclude even him from her plans."

"That's assuming she  _ had _ plans," Quill replied.  His placid mood disturbed, he got to his feet and stretched.  "The only way we're going to find her is if we find the Church, I reckon."

"I would not hold out hope of that," Drax replied evenly.  "They are impossible to find, unless they want to be found."

With this cryptic statement, he gave the couple a nod and returned inside.  Quill grasped the railing of the balcony, gazing down at the quiet street below.  Soon he felt a gentle nudge at his side, and reached to put an arm around Adam. He closed his eyes and let his cheek rest against the being's silky hair.  He had not known the sort of inner peace he felt now before Adam had become his constant companion. Even in the face of losing his closest friend, he felt comforted in Adam's presence.  "You're my angel," he whispered. Adam laughed gently, one elegant hand finding Quill's jaw to stroke.

"And you're my..." He trailed off with a frustrated sigh, clearly having no idea of how to proceed.  

Quill chuckled.  "You'll think of something eventually."

They stood in this embrace for a long while, until the last beams of sunlight had vanished from the sky.  The stars appeared one by one- soon the hazy summer sky was aglitter. At last, Quill's arm began to tingle painfully.  He released Adam, reaching for his hand to kiss his knuckles. "How about a little evening stroll before bed?"

"Yes- I'd like to go down to the water."

The river was a short walk from the apartment complex.  During the day it was crowded with people trying to cool off, but now, it was quiet.  Adam and Peter walked there hand-in-hand; when they had arrived at the bank, looking out over the dark expanse of water, Adam said, "Let's go swimming."

Quill did not need to be persuaded any more than that.  It was a hot night, and the water looked refreshing- not to mention, he took any opportunity given to be naked with Adam.  He quickly pulled his shirt off, then watched as Adam unfastened his chiffon robe. He was wearing a black catsuit of sorts underneath, which he slipped out of with surprising grace.  Naked, he walked to the river's edge to let the water touch his toes. Quill, dropping his shorts, followed close behind. He waded in without hesitation, having no desire to be caught naked by any passerby.  The water was cool, but not cold; the current was gentle enough that parents often taught their children to swim here.

Adam was lingering on the bank, watching Quill closely.  "Come on in, my sweetheart," the man called as he sank in up to his chest.  “The water’s swell.”

Adam beamed, wading in to meet him.  He made his way unsteadily over the sandy riverbed and all but fell into Quill’s arms.  They laughed a moment, and then they were kissing. Quill tasted the remnants of Adam’s fruity drink on his lips.  

It was a long, slow kiss.  After a few seconds, Adam’s fingers wove into Quill’s hair, and under the water, one leg slowly wrapped around the man’s waist.  Quill withdrew from the kiss to give Adam’s neck a gentle nibble. Adam gave a delighted whimper. He was stroking Quill’s beard and caressing his neck.  Eventually he sighed and said, “I’ve changed my mind. Let’s go back to the bank, so I can suck-”

He was cut off by a shout from behind them.  Immediately, a beam of white light was shining on them.  Quill groaned.

“Peter!” A voice called.  “I didn’t think I’d ever catch you like this again!”

“Who’s that?” Adam said, clinging to Quill’s shoulders.

Quill let out a sigh.  “It’s the fun-police.” Releasing Adam from his arms, Quill moved to put himself between his lover and the intruding light.

“Dey,” he hollered.  “They got you on skinny-dipper patrol again?”

“Just training up the newbies,” the man standing on the riverbank answered.  There were two young Corpsmen standing a bit behind him. He turned to them and said, loudly enough for Quill to hear, “Lucky for you, you get to meet one of our frequent flyers.”

“You’re Star-Lord, right?” One of the Corpsmen blurted.

“Sure am,” Quill replied.  “I bet they already told you all the stories about me, huh?”

“Yes, sir.”

Quill chuckled.  He turned, taking Adam’s hand in his.  The being looked like a deer in headlights.  “What’s going on?” He asked.

“Old Dey’s breaking the party up.”  To Dey, he said, “You’ve met Adam, right?”

“Briefly.  He was the cause for all that trouble with Ayesha last month.” He clapped his hands briskly.  “Alright, you two. Go home.”

Adam was watching the trio over Quill’s shoulder now.  “Does he mean for us to get out of the water? We’re naked!”

“Hey, maybe y’all could turn the big light off?” Quill called at once.  “I may be shameless, but Adam is not.”

Obligingly, the light was switched off.  Quill towed Adam back to shore, where he hurried to grab the being’s robes so that he was spared as much indignity as possible.  As they dressed, Quill turned to Dey. “What ended up happening with Ayesha, anyway?”

“Not much, really,” Dey replied.  “We’re letting her return to Sovereign with a sanctioned officer to… keep an eye on things.”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that,” Adam replied.  “Father has promised to make sure she is kept in line.”

Quill shuddered at the memory of Adam’s father- a menacing metal man called the High Evolutionary.  From the brief time Quill had spent in his company, he was more than certain that he would have no trouble controlling Ayesha.

“Well, if you two can promise that we won’t catch you misbehaving any further, I don’t think there’s any need to pursue the matter,” Dey said.

“Yessir,” Quill replied.  “I promise you won’t catch us.”

With a good-natured laugh, Dey left them standing in their damp clothes on the riverbank.  When he had led his trainees back to the road, Adam turned to Quill.

“What did he mean when he said you were a frequent flyer?” The being asked.

“I used to get in trouble a lot when I was a kid,” Quill replied.  “Running with the Ravagers meant I used to get collared for petty thievery and public drunkenness a lot.  Dey was always real nice to me when I got brought in. Saved my hide a few times, in fact.”

Adam watched him evenly.  “You haven’t told me much about your time with the Ravagers.”

“There ain’t much to tell.  They were a bunch of mean, drunk pirates who raised me from a pup.  They weren’t the nicest bunch of people, but I made it out alive, didn’t I?”  As he spoke, he took hold of Adam’s hand once more and led him from the riverbank.  “It could have been worse.”

Adam did not seem remotely satisfied with this answer.  “It must have been terrible for you, to be stuck living with them for so long.”

“It wasn’t easy.  A lot of times I went hungry, or had to find somewhere to sleep because I pissed the old man off.  And I used to get the living hell beat out of me pretty often. But it’s behind me now, darlin’. I couldn’t ask for a better life.”  He leaned in to kiss Adam’s nose.

The rest of their walk was spent largely in silence, although Quill caught Adam staring at him in a rather bemused way.

When they got home, the apartment was dark.  They changed quickly out of their wet clothes and settled down for bed.  As they laid beside each other, Adam made a point of cuddling into Quill, his back to the man’s belly.  Quill wrapped his arms around the being, who clasped them at his belly. Any playful mood had been dispelled by their encounter with Dey, so Quill was content to simply lay his cheek against Adam’s hair and drift into peaceful dreams.

\-----

By noon of the next day, it became obvious to Quill that Adam was growing restless.  He had fidgeted all through breakfast, and now he was pacing the apartment like a caged animal.  If there was one thing that Quill had learned about his lover in the past 3 weeks, it was that Adam despised stagnation.  He loved to learn and experience, even if it was something as mundane as being taught a card game, or visiting a new store.  He kept a book, Quill had discovered- a diary of sorts. Adam had let Quill look at a few pages, which he had filled up with writing about his daily life.  He seemed to record everything, from what he ate for lunch to when he took his medicine. There were drawings- flowers, animals he had met, even a few doodles of Quill himself.  He had also written Quill’s name over and over, at least once on every page- always written in his fanciest script and surrounded with flowers.

This had warmed Quill.  Adam’s excitement for life was inspiring, and he was determined to nurture it in any way he could.  Now, as he sat in the living room, watching Adam study the people on the street below, he said, “What do you say I take you over to the botanical gardens today?”

“For a date?” Adam asked, looking back at Quill with a glint in his eye.

“Yeah.  You’d like that?”

“Oh, yes.  I love plants.  And I love our dates.”

Quill beamed.  He rose from his seat, reaching to slide an arm around Adam’s waist.  They danced in a circle, Adam’s long robes sweeping gracefully as he turned.  He brushed his golden curls aside and batted his long, dark lashes at Quill. Quill leaned in to give him a gentle kiss.

“Gross.  Do you two ever quit it?”  It was Rocket, who had come in to fish a screwdriver out of the couch cushions.

“Why would we quit?” Adam asked.  “We’re in love, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rocket replied with a sneer.  “Believe me, I know.”

Unperturbed, Adam smiled at Quill and said, “I should go and get ready.  Maybe I’ll ask Mantis to help with my hair.”

Quill watched him go, feeling his heart swell with adoration.  There came times like these when he could scarcely believe his good fortune.  Six months ago he was a man who had given up on the prospect of ever having a partner; years of being unlucky in love had left him resigned to a bachelor’s life forever.  He had had an injury that he was afraid would keep him from his life as a Guardian, and despite the presence of the Guardians, he had never felt so alone. And then, as if Fate herself had intervened, they took a call for a downed ship in the Rajak wilderness- and aboard it, the lovely creature he now called his boyfriend.   _ A real fairy tale _ , Quil mused.

When Adam had dressed and had Mantis help to style his hair, he came to find Quill and tug enthusiastically on his sleeve.  “Come, my love,” he said. “I’m anxious to get there. Should I bring my book, in case I find something I’d like to draw?”

Without waiting for an answer, he hurried off to fetch his book.  He walked with it tucked under his arm as they made their way from the apartment and over several blocks to where the massive greenhouse stood.

Inside the gardens, which consisted of one large room with a massive tree at its center, the air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers.  It made Quill’s nose twitch, but Adam took a deep breath and said, “That smell reminds me of home. Father grows so many flowers for his research.”

Quill tried to smile.  “Maybe we could not talk about your daddy for a while.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.  I know he makes you anxious.  It’s just that I miss him so.”

This, Quill could sympathize with.  He hadn’t seen his own father in weeks, and he was itching to be back in the Titan’s presence.  He mentally noted that they would have to visit Eros soon, if only to share the joy of their love with him.

The gardens were never particularly busy; a few people drifted about here and there, admiring flowers or taking pictures of butterflies.  Mostly, Adam and Quill were alone as they walked. This was a relief, because every time Adam stopped to examine a particular flower, his passionate curiosity filled Quill with the desire to kiss him.

They walked for a long time, Quill’s arm around Adam’s waist.  Adam read aloud some of the name cards, or reached out to stroke a velvety leaf.  Once, a large crimson butterfly fluttered up and landed on Quill’s cheek, which rendered Adam positively speechless.  When the insect at last moved along, Adam said, “They seem to trust you.”

“Who, the butterflies?”

“Animals in general.  Like that stray dog who let you pet it when it growled at everyone else, or the birds on the balcony.”

“Huh,” Quill murmured.  “I guess I didn’t notice.”

Adam broke away suddenly, pointing to an especially beautiful silvery blossom on a nearby bush.  “I want to draw this one,” he announced. “Do you mind if we sit for awhile?”

“Not at all, honey.  You take your time.”

They found a small bench with a good view of Adam’s subject matter.  Quill watched over Adam’s shoulder as he began to sketch, unable to help but be awed by the being’s skill.  He perfectly captured the delicate petals of the flower, shading them meticulously as he went.

“Who taught you to draw like that?” Quill asked eventually.

“No one, really.  I learned by copying pictures from my textbooks.”

Quill was going to say something else, but he was interrupted by a sudden tap on his knee.  He looked down to see that a young Xandarian child of about 5 was standing before him, looking up in wonder.

“Mr. Star-Lord,” the child lisped.

Quill leaned forward, smiling.  “That’s me. And who might you be?”

“Tirki.  Are you here to save us again?”

“Nah, nobody needs saving right now.  I’m here with my boyfriend.” Quill looked to Adam, who had paused in his drawing to stare at the child in bewilderment.  It occured to Quill that, with the Sovereign being born full-grown, it was possible that Adam had never seen a child.

Tirki was looking back at Adam, too.  “Is he your family?”

“Sorta,” Quill responded.  “I guess he’s our newest member.”

Tirki looked pleased by this.  “My big sister has a boyfriend.  She says when she gets married to him, he’ll be our family.”

At last, Adam had set his book aside and was leaning in, as though he were as fascinated by the child as he was by the flowers around them.  “How old are you, Tirki?”

“I’m five and a half.  What’s your name?”

“My name is Adam.  Are you here all alone?”

“No.  My mama and papa are right over there.”  The child pointed to two adults approaching now.  One of them, a young woman who Quill immediately recognized as one of Dey’s trainees from the night before, was very red in the face.

“I’m so sorry about Tirki,” she was saying as she approached.  “You know how children this age are.”

“No worries,” Quill said.  He watched as she gathered the child up and hurried off with one more embarrassed apology.  He turned to Adam. “Pretty awkward, considering she saw us both naked last night.”

Adam nodded absently.  “Children are very strange, aren’t they?” He said in a way that suggested he was talking more to himself than to Quill.  “I had never seen one in person before. They’re actually rather charming.”

Quill studied his expression a moment before giving a sigh.  “I’ve always liked them. When I was younger, I figured I’d have some of my own.  But you can see how that turned out.”

Adam seemed to consider this.  “I would hardly say that you’re out of time,” he said.  “Surely it wouldn’t be difficult to find a mother.”

“Well, considering that I’m going steady with you, I won’t be finding anyone.”

Adam looked very puzzled.  “I don’t think I quite understand how all this works.”

Quill gave a chuckle.  “Don’t worry, buddy. You’re not alone there.”

As Adam resumed work on his drawing, Quill reached out and rested a hand on his thigh.  They sat in perfect silence a while, which was just as well- Quill was thinking about a great many things.  He knew it was awfully premature to be entertaining these kind of thoughts, but he found he couldn’t help it.  He wanted more than anything to have a future with Adam, and that would mean broaching some difficult questions.  Quill had always wanted a family of his own, and while he had all but given up on that idea years ago, it seemed that things were changing for him.  Perhaps it wasn’t out of the question after all.

“What are you thinking about?” Adam asked offhandedly, having noticed Quill’s uncharacteristic silence.

Quill leaned in and kissed his ear.  “Don’t you worry, my darlin’. Don’t you worry.”


	2. A Day at Rest

When Adam awakened the following morning, he was alone in the bed.  This did not alarm him; Quill got up very early to shower and run errands.  He would be back in an hour or so with pastries or breakfast-makings to hand off to Drax.  In the meantime, Adam could undertake his extensive grooming routine. He threw the silky duvet off and got to his feet, stretching luxuriously.  Outside the bedroom window, sunlight was flooding the streets of the city. Adam opened the window, leaning out into the morning. It was cooler today than it had been; he had arrived on Xandar in the full heat of summer.  It hadn't bothered him in the least- Sovereign was a desert planet and much warmer by comparison- but he relished the crispness of the air today.

He rested his chin in his palm and watched a commuter dirigible float past, carrying Xandarians to their workplaces.  On the street several stories below, a small produce market was attracting crowds.  _ Maybe Peter is down there _ , Adam thought, then stood for a while trying to catch a glimpse of him among the throngs.

Eventually, a gentle tap on the door shook him from his reveries.  He padded across the room and opened the door. Drax was standing in the threshold.  "I made breakfast," he said. "I thought we could try some more sparring today."

Since he had returned home with Quill from the clutches of the Sovereign priestess Ayesha, Drax had endeavoured to teach Adam everything he knew about physical combat.  He insisted that this was because if a situation like the one with Ayesha ever again arose, this time Adam would be able to defend himself. Adam had tried to explain that he had learned something of combat from Ayesha herself, but Drax was insistent.  Now, he was watching Adam expectantly, awaiting his response.

“Of course,” Adam replied, smiling.  “Do you know where Peter went?”

“He was on his way to a meeting with Nova Prime when he left.  He instructed that I am to keep you entertained until he returns.  Come, before your breakfast gets cold.”

Adam fetched his dressing robe, wrapping it around himself as he followed Drax to the kitchen.  Mantis, Rocket, and Groot were already in attendance, the former two finished off plates of scrambled eggs and sausage.  Groot was nursing his usual breakfast: water fortified with fertilizer. He was dipping his long, leafy fingers in to suck up the nutrients.  Adam seated himself beside Groot, crossing his legs. Drax set a plate before him. He tucked eagerly into the hot eggs; he loved Drax’s cooking.  It reminded him of being home, eating with Father in the grand dining hall of the compound. There the High Evolutionary would lovingly quiz Adam on all he had learned in the previous day’s lessons.

“What is the function of a golgi body?” He would ask.

“To process macromolecules synthesized within a cell,” Adam would answer duly, which would prompt the man’s smooth metal face to take on a semblance of pride.

“That’s a clever lad.  Now, tell me, what are the four nitrogenous bases found in a nucleotide?”

“Adenine, guanine, cytosine, and thymine.”

“Excellent.”

This would go on for as long as it took Adam to finish his tea and biscuits.  Father taught him many subjects, from biology and genetics- which were his area of specialty- to linguistics and mathematics.  He was a remarkably learned man, which made it all the happier for Adam when Father praised his aptitude and readiness to learn.

Taking a bite of sausage, he looked around at his new friends.  Of the Guardians, Father had only met Peter so far, but he had expressed his approval of the man readily to Adam.  Adam wondering if he would be so receptive of the rest of the team.

“I am Groot?”  The creature sitting beside Adam asked suddenly.

“He wants to know what you’re thinking about,” Rocket piped up, seeing Adam’s confusion.   _ It will be a relief _ , Adam thought,  _ when I can finally understand this being. _

“I am thinking about my father,” he answered, looking up at Groot.  Groot needed no translation from Rocket.

“I am Groot,” he said, his wooden face cracking into a smile.  “I  _ am  _ Groot.”

“He didn’t have a father,” Rocket said.  “On account of him being a tree. They grow from seeds in the ground.”

“How fascinating,” Adam replied earnestly.  “Who taught you to behave so politely, then?”

“That was me,” Rocket replied before Groot could answer.  Mantis laughed aloud, which caused Rocket to give her an unkind look.

Adam returned his attention to his plate.  In the time he had been speaking to Groot, Drax had wordlessly placed a cup of tea in front of him.  This, Adam lifted gratefully to his lips. Drax’s tea was spicy and strong, perfect for chasing out the last of the morning’s sleepiness.  He drank one cup in a few gulps, unbothered by the heat. Drax immediately poured him another. When he had finished that, Drax said, “Are you ready?”

Adam got to his feet.  “I can’t spar in my robe and pajamas.”

“‘Pajamas’ is a generous term,” Rocket said, making reference to the fact that under the robe, Adam was wearing a shirt of Peter’s and nothing else.  Adam shrugged, and left the breakfast table to change.

He met Drax in a small room off of the main hallway.  He had become very familiar with this room recently; it was where the Guardians trained.  There was a similar room on Peter’s ship  _ Aurora _ , because it seemed that one could never have enough practice.  At any rate, the floor of the room was covered with soft padding to break falls.  The walls were occupied by several mirrors, apparently for admiring oneself in the heat of a spar.  Adam was not at all opposed to this notion.

Drax, who, save Gamora, seemed the most knowledgeable in terms of hand-to-hand combat, stood across from Adam and squared his shoulders.  “I thought we could try some more advanced moves today,” he said, “Since you took so readily to the basics.”

Adam smiled appreciatively.  “You are an apt teacher. And I am not without prior instruction.”

“What good could training by the Sovereign have done you?  They avoid combat whenever possible.”

“Ayesha intended me for dark purposes,” Adam reminded him gently.  “Although I must agree. No amount of training she could have provided would have prepared me to face your team.”

“Then it is my honor to teach you.”

So saying, Drax held a forearm in front of him, patting it with his opposite hand.  “Try the high kick again,” he said. “You almost had it last time.”

Adam did as instructed, swinging one foot up to connect with Drax’s forearm.  Drax didn’t budge.

“Correct your stance,” he said.  “It will add power to your blow.”

Adam took a step back, planting his left foot firmly and straightening his back.  He took a deep breath and tried the kick again. When the blow landed this time, Drax staggered back a bit.  “Excellent,” he said with a laugh. “That would have broken an enemy’s jaw.”

Adam preened.  Then he said, “Could you teach me some of Gamora’s techniques?”

At this, Drax looked unsure.  “Gamora is among the galaxy’s most advanced fighters.  She learned much of her fighting style from Thanos himself, and I do not think myself capable of passing such knowledge to you.”

Adam sighed.  He hoped that Gamora returned from wherever she had gone soon.  There were many questions he wanted to ask her- about fighting, for one, and about the complexities of being in a relationship for another.  He had met her boyfriend, Richard, only twice, but Quill had told him that they had been dating for several months.

“Come now,” Drax said, rousing him from his thoughts.  “I want to show you some defensive maneuvers.”

“Defensive?” Adam echoed.

“In case you are attacked unexpectedly.”

Adam watched him nervously, remembering one of his earliest experiences in the outside world- two men had attacked him in a marketplace shortly after his first meeting with the Guardians.  He needed no further convincing. “Show me.”

First, Drax demonstrated the proper technique for disarming a knife-wielding assailant.  This was fairly easy. Adam had mastered the maneuver in a few tries, with a great deal of enthusiastic praise from Drax.

“Now, I’ll show you what to do in the case that someone grabs you by the neck,” the man said.  Then, he did just that. His strong fingers closed, albeit gently, around Adam’s throat. Even with Drax’s warning, the shock of the sudden pressure caused Adam to make a small sound of alarm.  Before Drax could begin instructing him on how to escape such a hold, Adam saw a flash like lightning, and the hand at his neck was gone. He spun, confused, and found Drax laying on his back a few paces away.

“Drax!” Adam exclaimed, hurrying to his side.  To his relief, he found that Drax was laughing.

“That is one way of doing it,” he said.

“I’m terribly sorry.  I am still trying to get control over my powers.”

“I am unhurt.  And I should have given you more warning,” Drax replied.  “But if it is control you want, I would suggest Mantis for help.  She has a knack for that kind of thing.”

Adam nodded thankfully, grabbing Drax’s outstretched hand and pulling the man easily to his feet.

“You are very strong for your size,” Drax observed.

“I was designed that way.  I was also designed to be faster and more agile than most.  It is simply in my genetic code.”

“If only we could all be made that way.  It would have saved me years of training.”

“But you are an individual,” Adam protested.  “You don’t look like the rest of your bloody species.”

Drax rested a hand on Adam’s shoulder.  “You are nothing like the rest of the Sovereign, Adam.”

They trained for perhaps an hour.  By the end of the session, Adam was beginning to feel restless.  Quill wasn’t usually gone for this long.

“You don’t think he went off to look for Gamora, do you?” He asked Mantis, who smiled sympathetically at him.

“He will be home soon,” she said.  Adam settled next to her where she was sitting- a thin mat on the balcony, soaking up the warmth of the suns.

“Drax says that you may be able to help me gain control of my powers,” he said.  “Do you have experience with such a thing?”

“Not anything like  _ your  _ powers, exactly.  I used to be the slave of a being called Ego.  I am sure that Peter has told you about him?”

“The sentient planet, yes.”

“He was very powerful, and I was able to control his powers, in a way.  I had to tap into his mind. But if you are willing to let me experiment, perhaps we could find a way to control yours.”

“That would be preferable.  I should like not to harm anyone with them.”

She nodded sagely, and they lapsed into silence.  This was one of Adam’s favorite things about Mantis; she did not feel the need for constant conversation.  She liked to meditate, as he did, and she enjoyed the quiet. It made her a very agreeable companion.

The rest of the day was passed in relative peace and quiet.  In the afternoon, the Nova Corps’ annual end-of-summer parade passed by the apartment building, bringing with it music and pops of colorful smoke overhead.  It headed through town and ended at the monument situated on a ledge overlooking the sea. Quill had taken Adam to this monument a week before, and explained its meaning.  It was comprised of 9 pillars of black stone, etched on the face of each was a list of names. These names were all the Xandarians who had been killed in the attack by the Mad Titan, Thanos.  Adam had been hearing a lot about Thanos lately, and every mention of the name stirred a strange and unnamable feeling deep in his chest. When the parade had long passed and the first hints of twilight were beginning to darken the sky, Adam was still sitting in quiet contemplation.  None of the Guardians bothered him, leaving him to sit staring out the window in a daze for almost two hours, during which time he went over and over all he had seen and done since leaving Sovereign. His departure on the gunship seemed a lifetime ago.

He was finally roused by a gentle tap on his shoulder.  He turned, and was delighted to find Quill standing over him, beaming.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said.  “Sorry I been gone so long. Those meetings take forever.”

Adam got to his feet, wrapping his arms around Quill’s broad chest.  “I don’t mind. I had a pleasant day with your teammates.”

“I’m glad to hear it.  Drax said you’re doing great with the training.  You’re a real natural, huh?”

“Did he also tell you that I discharged my powers and threw him across the room?”

Quill chuckled.  “He mentioned it, yeah.”  He kissed Adam’s nose. “Anyway, come in the bedroom.  I got you a surprise.”

“What kind of surprise?”

“A  _ surprise! _ ”  He grabbed Adam’s hand and tugged him down the hallway to the bedroom they shared.  Inside, Adam found that Quill had carefully made the bed- something Adam had never seen him do before- and placed on the duvet a massive bouquet of flowers.

“Oh, how pretty,” Adam said at once, leaving Quill’s side to gather them up.  He let the sweet floral scent fill his nose, smiling. It was a charming arrangement of red and yellow blossoms, interspersed with sprigs of aromatic herbs.

“You said you liked flowers,” Quill was saying.  When Adam turned to thank him, he saw that the man was rather red in the face.  “I thought you could draw them, or put them in your hair, or something.”

“They are delightful,” Adam replied emphatically.  “But I must ask: is it traditionally a romantic gesture, to gift flowers?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Quill replied, looking ever more sheepish.  “You buy flowers for someone if you love them. In a romantic way, I mean.”

Adam smiled.  “I love you, too.”

Quill beamed, as if this answer had somehow surprised him.  They had confessed their love weeks ago, and yet he was still so shy- it was as though he thought Adam may have changed his mind.  At this troubling thought, Adam set the bouquet back on the bed and went to Quill, embracing him once more. “I  _ do _ love you,” he whispered.  “You are a kind, thoughtful man.  And very handsome.” He kissed Quill, stroking his wavy hair.

“I know you love me,” he breathed, sounding embarrassed still.  “It’s just that I was sitting in that meeting all day with nothing to do, and I got myself all worked up worrying.  Sometimes I think it’s all too good to be true.”

“In time, you will see,” Adam promised.  “You will see that I am going to stay with you, forever.”

Quill rested his forehead against Adam’s.  “It’s something else, to finally hear those words.”

“I’ll say them, over and over, until you believe it.”

Quill hurriedly brushed at his eyes.  Adam, knowing by now that Quill was often ashamed to be seen weeping, turned and gazed contentedly at the flowers laying on the bed.


	3. Revelations

In the dark, swampy wetlands of O'erlanii, Gamora and her entourage were on the move once again.  It was not especially pleasant or easy travel- in fact, this particular stretch of stinking marsh was making Gamora long for the forgiving streets of Knowhere.  But she was in a state of particular determination, and so not even the wretchedness of this place could deter her. Tonight, they were going to get the information she had set out for almost a month ago.

Spirit, who had gone on ahead of the rest, came trotting back through the tangled brambles now, shielding her face from the thorns as she went.

"There's a house up ahead," she said as she reached Gamora's side.  "Well, sort of a house. More like a shack. The roof's all caved in, and it looks like it's half under water."

Gamora sighed, blowing a strand of damp hair from her eyes.  "Did you see anyone?"

"No, it looks pretty abandoned.  Are you sure this is where the guy wanted to meet us?"

"Positive."  Gamora paused to look back at the rest of her party.  Behind her were Cerise- the leader of this little gang she had stumbled upon- and Tana Nile, a young Rigellian.  Bringing up the rear were the group's strongest members, Ganymede and Stellaris. They had been paired up by Gamora to handle the team's most recent acquisition, a sizable man of indeterminable race who, if Gamora's sources were correct, could tell them what they needed to know.

"Tell me again why we're tramping through this gods-forsaken swamp like a bunch of vagabonds?" Stellaris called.  She was a bad-tempered creature, but Gamora could hardly fault her for that. She hadn't had the easiest go of things; none of these girls had.

"This is where Sh'ath wanted to meet," Gamora replied.  "Don't ask me why."

"Seems pretty suspicious, if you ask me."

"Let me do the worrying.  I know Sh'ath."

"Is he trustworthy?"

"Not particularly.  But he is predictable."

Stellaris seemed satisfied with this answer.  She turned her attention to the man she was carrying- he had been knocked unconscious by a well-placed blow from Ganymede.  But Gamora reckoned that they were running short on time; if their prisoner awakened, he would prove a challenge to subdue again.  They had hardly managed it the first time, even in their numbers. He was imbued with the Church's frightful powers, which seemed to provide, with a simple statement of 'I believe', almost unlimited abilities.  It had unsettled Gamora, and now she was all the more determined to coax from this man the information she needed.

Ahead of them, the ground sloped steeply away into shadowy undergrowth.  In the darkness of A'askvarian twilight, it was not easy going, least of all for the two of them supporting a grown man between them.  Ganymede grunted in pain as her leg became ensnared in a bramble. Cerise moved quickly to cut her out.

"This place is a deathtrap," she muttered.

Gamora urged them on.  Soon they had cleared the tangle of foliage and emerged into a small clearing, at the center of which was the house Spirit had described.  It was truly a sorry-looking structure, its wooden-plank walls sagging inward and all glass gone from its windows. It was submerged in about two feet of fetid swamp water.  Gamora sighed.

"You want us to walk through that?" Tana Nile said quietly.

"Well, unless you can fly," Gamora replied tartly.  "I'll go ahead."

Leaving the little group standing on the bank, she waded into the water.  It was ice-cold, and the bottom of the swamp was slick with rot. She held her arms out to steady herself, all the while studying the house ahead of her for any signs of life.  There were none.

With some effort, she made it to the front door of the house relatively dry.  The door itself was hanging on rusted hinges that shrieked in protest as she pushed her way in.  The inside of the house was cloaked in shadows. She let her eyes adjust, her implants searching for a heat signature, as she splashed her way to a rickety staircase in the center of the room.  She was grateful to be out of the water, soggy with moss as the stairs were. She peered out of the door she had just entered to look at group on the shore, awaiting her instruction.

"Come on," she called.  "I don't think he's here yet."

With a great deal of muted complaints, all 5 of them- and their comatose captive- started towards her.  As they came, she pricked up her ears. Something was moving over the floor above her. She leaped the rest of the way up the staircase, calling, "Sh'ath!  Are you here?"

There was silence for a moment.  She looked around the narrow hallway she was now standing in.  There were three doors. She hesitated a moment, trying to decide where the sound had come from. She went with the door on her right, calling to Sh'ath once more.

She turned the rusty handle and opened the door a crack, cautious in case it was not Sh'ath in the room after all.  She was surprised to find the room filled with a warm orange light. She blinked for a few seconds in the brightness.

"Is that Lady Gamora?" A voice as deep and cold as the swamp water said.

"It is," she replied, stepping into the brightness.  She found the room in surprisingly good condition, considering the state of the house around it.  The walls were covered with yellow wallpaper, and on the floor was a flat red carpet marked with a strange, irregular pattern.  The orange light, she realized, was coming from about 400 candles arranged around the room. The air was perfumed with incense.

Standing at the center of all this was a diminutive man wrapped in a black cloak.  What was visible of him was a deep cerulean. He had large, fishy black eyes and a mouth lined with needle-shaped teeth.  In the place of arms, he had long, curling tentacles that reached nearly to the floor.

"Sh'ath," Gamora said, regarding the A'askvarian cautiously.

"Gamora.  You look much the same."

Gamora nodded graciously, thinking that Sh’ath looked very much like he had the last time she’d seen him- perfectly unsettling from head to toe.  She suppressed a shudder as she watched the gills behind his collar undulate faintly.

There was a shout from below, which caused Sh'ath to start violently.

"Take it easy," Gamora said.  "That's my entourage."

"I presume they are in possession of... the subject?"

"Yes.  Should I have them bring him up?"

Sh'ath nodded.  "I will need to have good look at him before we can begin."

Gamora returned to the top of the stairs, looking down to find her companions struggling onto the wooden stairs.  The shout had apparently come from Ganymede- she was soaked and scowling.

"Come upstairs," Gamora said.  "And bring him." She motioned to their captive, who had been unceremoniously laid on the stairs to relieve Ganymede and Stellaris.  Now the latter went about gathering him back up. Gamora left them to it, returning to Sh'ath.

"Do you live here?" She asked, giving the candlelit room another looking over.

"I'm afraid so," Sh'ath replied.  "I was banished by my tribe for practicing the Old Magick.  Now I perform my arts in secret, for fear of being killed."

Gamora nodded.  At this point, Stellaris was entering laboriously into the room, practically dragging the unconscious man.  "Where do you want him?" She panted.

"Place him on the carpet," Sh'ath replied, one glistening tentacle extended.  Stellaris did as she was instructed, dragging the man to the center of the carpet.  She dropped him with a thud.

As soon as she had stepped away, the pattern on the carpet began to move.  The markings that had seemed random slowly transfigured themselves into sigils and hieroglyphs, all moving in a sluggish circle around the unconscious man. It was a dizzying thing to watch.  

“What’s happening?” Tana Nile said quietly.

“I’m not sure,” Gamora responded honestly.

Sh’ath, hearting this, perked up at bit.  “It is a simple incantation,” he said, not without a hint of pride.  “A binding rune. It will keep our subject here from going anywhere, physically or otherwise.”

This was, of course, exactly what Gamora had contacted him about.  After their first encounter with a member of the Universal Church of Truth- a woman named Kefa Nuki, whose betrayal of the Church had led to what could only be described as a remote execution- Gamora had realized that extracting the information she needed would require unorthodox methods.  And Sh’ath, an old friend of Thanos’, was a master of the unorthodox.

At this point, the man on the ground was stirring.  He groaned loudly, the entirety of his sizeable body seizing up as though he was being electrocuted.  It appeared that he was straining to move, but the binding magic held him fast.

“Wake up!” Gamora demanded, stepping closer to the man.  He opened his eyes, revealing orange irises and strange, horizontal pupils.

“You!” He hissed.  “What have you done to me?”

“Nothing that can’t be undone, if you tell me what I need to know.”

He stared at her wordlessly for a long time.  “I know what you want,” he said at last, his voice sharp with contempt.  “You’re that Nova Corps lackey that’s been stalking us. You managed to set off three acolytes’ termination protocols in a matter of days.”

Gamora watched him evenly, saying nothing.  Then, she rose again, nodding to Sh’ath.

“You aren’t getting anything out of me,” the bound man snarled as she turned her back on him.  “You’ll just have to kill me, too.”

Sh’ath stepped forward now.  Gamora did not care to see what he did to the man- all she knew was that the candlelight dimmed, and there was a choked cry of agony from behind her.  She looked at Stellaris and Ganymede, who were lingering in the doorway, and dismissed them with a nod. They hurried away.

The man’s shout of pain had faded, and now he was speaking again.  “You’ll have to do worse than that,” he panted.

Finally, Gamora turned to address him.  “Oh, don’t worry. We’re just getting started.”

 

It seemed that there was no end to the tricks Sh’ath had up his sleeves.  In truth, the whole affair repulsed Gamora, and she was eager to get her information and be away from the twisted little man.  And while the acolyte at their mercy was a stronger specimen than most, he was not without his breaking point. When he realized that the binding rune he was laid upon not only restricted physical movement, but also prevented the triggering of the ‘termination protocol’ that had felled his predecessors, his nerve had rapidly deteriorated.  His attempts at summoning power of his own had faltered. “ _ I believe _ ,” had devolved into grunted incantations, none of which seemed to hold any sway while he was under the influence of Sh’ath’s spell.

Gamora approached him once more, dropping to one knee beside him.  “So,” she said. “Are you ready to talk now?”

The man, who showed no outward marks of the duress he was under save his labored breathing and the pale, sickly sheen of his skin, looked banefully up at her.  He curled his lip. “You think me some weakling,” he wheezed.

“I do,” Gamora replied.  “But if you insist, we can keep going all night.  I have nowhere to be.” She raised her hand to beckon for Sh’ath once more, but before she could, the acolyte gave a choked sob.

“Enough,” he coughed.  “Call him off.”

“You’ll talk?” Gamora asked, lowering her hand.

Again, those orange eyes bored into her hatefully.  “What do you want to know?”

“Where is the Church?  What are they planning?”

“ _ Where _ is a complicated thing,” the acolyte replied, “Because I don’t know.  None of us know for sure. We follow the instructions given to us to reach the places of worship, but I could not tell you where the Cathedral is.  And,” he paused here to give a shallow cough, “I suspect it is those who make the Cathedral their home that you really want.”

“You’re right about that,” Gamora said coldly.  “But don’t worry. I’m going to find them, if it is the last thing I ever do.”

“It may just be.”

She smiled a little.  “Answer my other question.  What are they planning?”

“That is a much simpler answer.  They want control.”

“Over what?”

“ _ Everything. _ ”

This, of course, came as no surprise to Gamora.  Even as a girl on Zen-Whoberi, she had known that the mysterious organization raining destruction on her people had been in search of control.  It was later that she had learned exactly why such a harsh punishment had been meted out to the people of Zen-Whoberi: they had resisted conversion.  To the Church, resistance was unacceptable. To question their absolute authority was a death sentence.

“Be more specific,” she said eventually.  “I know that they’re the ones who created the time slip on the Spartoi mining station.  Why?”

“That was a failed experiment,” the acolyte replied.  “One of the High Council’s first attempts at traversing the structure of space and time.  They were attempting to reach into the past. But they lost control of the portal and it began to swallow folks whole.  They abandoned the attempt.”

“What do they want with the past?” Gamora asked.

“I’m not one of the privileged few who has all the answers.  I don’t know exactly what they were doing.” The acolyte paused again, taking a few labored breaths before continuing.  “But I have a good idea. There was someone they were trying to contact. Some fellow who died a long time ago. He was a potentate and a very powerful sorcerer, and they wanted him for their own purposes.”

Gamora sighed.  “So they tore a hole in the fabric of reality to retrieve him?”

“Yes, but they failed.  Something was keeping them from reaching him.  I remember hearing some talk about it after they abandoned the mining station.  Something about new plans being drawn. A new method.”

“That’s all you can tell me?” Gamora replied.

“Why should I wrack my brain for you, woman?”

“Because if you don’t, you can kiss the sweet release of death goodbye.”

He gazed at her for a long time, eyes filmy now.  “There was one other thing,” he said. “Something about a new body needing to be made.  They sent a bunch of us over to some little desert planet a long time ago to bolster negotiations.  They needed help from these folks, and it wasn’t being readily given.” He let out a long, shuddering breath.  “But I was just a kid. I don’t remember much.”

Gamora stood with an exasperated sigh.  “That’s it,” she said. “Let him go, Sh’ath.  We’re not going to get anything else.”

Sh’ath, who had been lingering in the shadows for the entirety of Gamora’s conversation with the acolyte, stepped forward now to undo his binding.  Gamora didn’t need to see anything else. She made her way to the door, working over in her mind all that she had just been told. She had nearly stepped into the hallway before thinking twice and turning back, saying, “Sh’ath.  Breathe a word of this to anyone, and you’re dog meat.”

He looked evenly at her, nodding.  Satisfied, she made her way down the slimy staircase and began to wade back across the water to where her companions were waiting.  She was about halfway there when she stopped dead in her tracks.

“Adam,” she said.

“What?” Spirit called from the shore.

“It’s Adam,” Gamora said again, doubling her speed back to dry land.  “They want Adam.”

“Who the hell is Adam?” Stellaris replied.

“Shut up,” Gamora snapped.  “We need to get back to civilization now.  I need to get a message back home as quickly as I can.”  She scrambled up onto the bank and began to push immediately back into the wood, paying little heed to the thorny brambles tugging at her skin.  “Hurry up, all of you,” she called. “The Church is after Adam, and I need to warn him before it’s too late.”


	4. Nightfall

“We should take a trip to the market.”

Adam was standing over Quill where the man was laying on the balcony.  He had come out here while Adam was still sleeping to soak up some early-morning sunshine; his back was aching again, and sometimes sunbathing helped it.  Now he rolled over with a grunt to look up at the being.

“Sure,” he said.  “But you gotta come with me on a few errands first.”

“Like what?”

“Well,” Quill replied, sitting up and clambering to his feet.  “First I gotta bring  _ Aurora  _ over to the shop to get detailed.  Then I’m gonna check in with Rich, see how he’s doing.  I gotta stop at the dispensary to get my medications. Oh, and I gotta buy a present for Mantis today, it’s almost her birthday.”

At this, Adam cocked his head.  “What is a birthday?”

“It’s the day you were born on.  You celebrate it every year because you’re getting a year older.  We give gifts and eat cake and stuff.”

“That sounds nice.  I would be happy to come with you.”

Quill smiled.  “Alright, baby.”  He gave Adam’s hair an affectionate pat, then sidestepped the being to head to his bedroom.  Before he could make it there, however, Rocket stepped out in front of him.

“Hey, lover boy,” he said, pointing a claw up at Quill.  “What gives? Are we gonna be cooped up in this apartment forever?  We haven’t seen action in weeks.”

Quill shrugged.  “Richard did say they were trying to divert some jobs from us while we’re short a player.  And besides, it’s nice getting to relax for once.”

“Maybe for you,” Rocket said with a sigh.  “Me and Groot are going stir-crazy.”

“Well, sorry,” Quill replied, not insincerely.  “If you want a job, I’m sure you could find one.  Anyway, I gotta go run some errands with Adam.”

“Oh, so Blondie’s coming with you now, eh?  No surprise there.”

“Hey, lay off us.  Do you know how long it’s been since I had a boyfriend?”

“No.”

Quill considered this for a moment.  He realized quickly that he had  _ never  _ had someone content enough in his presence to follow him around town on errands.  He was grinning to himself when he moved around Rocket and continued on his way.

When he was dressed and groomed, he went to find Adam once more.  The being was standing in front of the hall mirror, tucking his curls under a wide-brimmed sun hat.  He fastened it under his chin with a floral ribbon, then admired his reflection for a moment. Quill watched him fondly.

“You’re cute as a button,” he said at length.  Adam smiled and fluttered his eyelashes. Then he was linking his arm with Quill’s.

“Let’s go, then,” he said.  “I’m anxious to see how poor Richard is doing.”

It was a comfortable day for walking, a salty breeze coming in off the bay and the sun dazzling overhead.  They made their way from the apartment building to the hangar where  _ Aurora  _ was.  As they approached, Quill admired the vessel where she was docked.  Her flanks were sleek and iridescent, waxed to a perfect finish by attendants that he kept well-paid.  Today he was sending her in for a six-month tune-up.

“You never told me how you won the ship,” Adam said as they boarded.  It was a short, easy flight over to the repair station, and from there Quill could run the rest of his errands.

“Made a bet with a Corpsman,” Quill replied as he sat in the pilot’s chair and started the engine.   _ Aurora  _ purred.  “He thought I wouldn’t be able to hijack one of their shiny new ships and sneak it off without anyone noticing.  Obviously, he was wrong.”   


"And your prize was to keep her?"   


"Sure was.  She's been my baby ever since."   


Adam smiled.  "She must be very special."   


He settled in a seat just behind Quill as the latter guided Aurora from the docking station and out of the hangar.  Adam was silent for the entirety of the short flight to the repair bay, but Quill knew by now not to take this is a signal of displeasure or boredom.  Adam was simply given to bouts of thoughtful quiet. Quill did not disturb him.   


They left Aurora in the capable hands of the repair bay attendants- along with a sizable bundle of units- and made the short walk to the Nova dormitories.  They were high, silver buildings with lots of gleaming windows and balconies bedecks with Nova banners and potted plants. Quill recognized a few of the Corpsmen who were relaxing in the lobby- some had accompanied the Guardians on missions, some have been his arresting officers back in his Ravager days.  All of those that noticed his approach gave friendly nods.   


"Should we bring him something?" Adam asked suddenly.  "Breakfast, or perhaps some coffee?"   


Quill considered this.  He hadn't seen much of Richard since Gamora's disappearance; he was a busy man, and undoubtedly trying to keep himself distracted while he awaited her return.  Quill thought 

back to the last time they had been together, four days prior. Richard hadn't seemed especially on edge, but the dark circles under his eyes had given away his sleepless nights.   


"Coffee's a good idea," he said.  They stopped at the small cafe on the far side of the lobby for a few drinks and a box of scones.  Then they headed upstairs.   


As they reached his apartment door, Quill, arms full of coffee, nodded for Adam to knock.  Richard was swift in answering the door- maybe a little too swift. He looked out at Quill and Adam with a sort  of weary surprise.  "Hey," he said lamely.   


"Good morning, Richard," Adam said brightly.  "We brought you some coffee and baked goods."   


Richard looked blankly at him, then turned his eyes to Quill.  Quill shrugged and said, "Can we come in?"   


"Yeah, of course," Richard replied, stepping aside to let them in.  "What brings you here?"   


"Just checking in," Quill said, handing him a cup of coffee.   


"You shouldn't be alone," Adam piped up.   


"Have you heard anything yet?" Quill asked gently.  "We figured she might reach out to you first."   


"Nothing," Richard replied.  "But I'm not too worried."   


Quill arched an eyebrow.  Richard held his gaze a moment before giving a sigh and saying, "Okay, fine.  I'm pretty worried."   


"Should we start sending out the search parties?  My team's itching to get out of the house."   


Richard seemed to consider this.  "I don't want to piss her off, if she's just on one of her weird solo missions after all."   


"She can't get pissed at us for being worried."   


Richard scratched his cheek.  "I dunno, Pete. You've known her longer."   


Quill looked around the apartment.  It was in a state of disarray, which was highly unusual for a neat man like Rider.   There were books and notepads stacked on the counter, and a few plates of half-eaten food on the table.  Quill heaved a sigh. "You should come out with us. We're headed down to the market."

Richard hesitated.  "Are you sure you want me tagging along?  I'm not gonna be a third wheel?"

Quill laughed.  "No way. You need to get out of this place."

He shrugged a little, and then immediately went to straighten up in front of a mirror.  Soon all three of them were leaving the cluttered apartment behind. Once they were out in the fresh air once more, Richard seemed to brighten considerably.

“She’s probably just with her sister,” he said to no one in particular.  “They’ve done this before, haven’t they?”

Quill gave a small, noncommittal noise.  He didn’t have the heart to tell Richard that  _ no, they hadn’t. _

“Where was I going next?” Quill asked Adam.

“For your medications,” Adam answered with a firm nod.

So Quill steered them to the dispensary.  He was hoping not to run into Doctor Fenne there; he had been absent from his last two appointments with her, and that always earned him a disappointed tut or two.  But he was out of muscle relaxers and if he had a back spasm without them on hand, he could be out for days.

“What are the other pills for?” Adam asked when the pharmacist had handed over his bottles.

“Those are my focus pills,” Quill replied with a smirk.  “My brain doesn’t work right without them.”

Adam laughed pleasantly, then turned to fiddle with a display of herbal supplements while Quill paid.

Finally, they were on their way to the market.  Adam seemed anxious to get there, although Quill couldn’t imagine what for.  The Xandarian public market was nothing like the one they had visited on the moon of Krylor when Adam had first begun his travels with the Guardians.  This one dealt mostly in trinkets and tourist-bait, save the few stands selling produce and fresh fish. Quill already had ideas of finding some nice fruit teas to give to Mantis and simply letting Adam wander until he had exhausted his curiosity.

“Lead the way,” he said to the being, who was looking around at the stands of gaudy colored beads and ugly animal puppets with gleaming eyes.  “We’re right behind you.”

Adam did just that.  Quill and Richard walked a few paces behind him as he explored, Quill keeping a sharp eye on anyone who got too close to the Sovereign.

“Where would you start looking, if you were going to look?” Richard asked at length, trying to look casual as he examined some cheaply-crafted windchimes.

“Well, if she isn’t on Knowhere, she’s probably not anywhere we’d think to look,” Quill answered carefully, watching Adam stop at a stand selling loaves of fruit cake.  “If she’s chasing something, then she could be anywhere.”

He heard Richard sigh and realized that he wasn’t being very encouraging.  “Sorry,” he said. “I guess we could backtrack. We should check out that mining station where the anomaly was.  She might have gone back there.”

Adam appeared at Quill’s side for some units.  Quill handed them over with a tender smile before returning his attention to his friend.

“I just wish she’d call,” Richard was saying.  “Or send a transmission. Hell, a letter! Anything!”

Quill laid a soothing hand on his shoulder.  “I know it’s hard,” he said. “Believe me, I been her friend for years and I still don’t understand her half the time.  But I do know that she’s probably just fine. She just got caught up in something with that sister of hers.”

Richard nodded.  “That’s another thing.  Her sister hates me. She won’t admit it, but-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Quill said with a grin.  “You’d better get used to that, because Nebula ain’t ever gonna play nice with anyone dating her sister.”

Richard looked a little exasperated, but he didn’t say anything.  Instead, he gave the marketplace around them a scan, and looked suddenly perplexed.  “Where did Adam go?”

Quill glanced around as well, looking for the familiar golden figure in the crowds.  “Huh, that’s weird. He was just standing right in front of us.”

As he spoke, a peculiar coldness prickled at the back of his neck, causing the ridge of hair there to stand on end.  He spun around, half-expecting to find someone just behind him, but there was just the usual mix of shoppers going about their business.  He narrowed his eyes.

“Did you feel that?” He asked Richard, who nodded.  He could see in the man’s face that he was experiencing exactly the same thing that Quill was- a strange chilled sensation, as if they had just stepped into a freezer.  Quill sniffed at the air, and mingling with the briney scent of the ocean, he could swear he detected the spicy aroma of incense.

“I still don’t see him,” Richard was saying, drawing Quill’s attention front and center once more.  Now, with the odd cold feeling lingering, Quill’s heart began to beat a little faster. He studied some of the other shoppers nearby- a few of them were rubbing their arms briskly as if to warm themselves, and a few more were looking about in a bewildered way.  But it was clear that none of them could discern the cause of their sudden discomfort.

Quill made an involuntary noise in his throat, a sort of croak of alarm.  He left Richard’s side to begin moving through the throngs, scanning for Adam all the while.  He wasn’t hard to pick out, in his big sunhat and flowing robe. And yet, Quill did not see him anywhere- not by the fruit cake stand or the stall hawking glittering jewelry.  He scanned every inch of the crowd, standing on his tiptoes and shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Richie, do you see him yet?” He called to his companion.

“No.  Do you think he went down to the water?”

Quill hadn’t thought of that.  He moved swiftly to the edge of the marketplace and hurried down to the quay.  Here the large, elaborate party boats may have caught Adam’s attention. Quill climbed onto a low wall for a better vantage point.  He cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “ _ Adam! _ ”

There was no response; Adam was nowhere to be seen.  By now, Quill’s heart was hammering away in his chest.  He still couldn’t shake the cold. He turned in time to watch Richard trot up to him.

“See him anywhere?” The man said.

Quill shook his head.  “I don’t get it. Where the hell did he go?  I was looking right at him one minute, and the next…”

“Maybe he got turned around.  Let’s just wait a minute and see if he turns up.”

Quill said nothing, by now pacing along the low wall.  He was bristling, rumbling. “I don’t like this,” he muttered at length.  “Something feels real weird. Did you feel it?”

“I think everyone did.  Some sort of electrical storm or something.”

“No,” Quill said, although what made him so certain he couldn’t say.  “We gotta find him.” He leaped from the wall and dashed off, running alongside the marketplace to give it one last look.  He hardly needed to- he already knew that Adam was not there. He came to a halt on the other side, looking towards the city center.  Richard caught up with him quickly.

“Stay calm, Pete,” he said.  “We’ll go back to my apartment and wait for him.  Does he have a transmitter?”

“No, he doesn’t carry one,” Quill said, unable to keep tinge of fear out of his voice.  “What if it’s the Sovereign? What if they came back for him?”

“What, and snuck in under a cloak of invisibility?” Richard replied.  “Don’t get paranoid. I’m sure he just wandered off somewhere. Come on, let’s go back.”

Richard fairly towed Quill back along the streets of Xandar to the Nova dormitories.  The whole way, Quill was watching. He looked into every face they passed and scanned every vehicle.  He could not explain the intensity of the fear that was suddenly resting on his heart, but it tightened his chest and made his head spin.

“We have to find him, Richie,” he was saying as Richard let them back into his apartment.  “We  _ gotta _ .  He’s in danger.”

“I don’t know why you’re saying that.  He’s just lost!”

“Peter’s right,” a third voice, whose owner neither of them had noticed in the midst of their confusion, said evenly.  Both men turned in a frenzy to find the source. “Adam is in danger.”

“Gam!” Richard exclaimed, hurrying to embrace the woman where she stood in the kitchen doorway.  She hugged him back, but Quill, looking into her face over Richard’s shoulder, saw that she was not smiling.  In fact, her eyes were as black as midnight.


	5. The Window

One moment, Adam had been standing in front of a display on gilded hair clips, wondering which would look best in Mantis' hair.  The smell of the ocean had been all around him, and he had been bathed in warm afternoon sunshine. Just as his fingertips had grazed a particularly flashy clip of swirled silver, however, a strange sensation had come over him.  The refreshing cool of the sea breeze had been replaced by a sharper chill- as though a shadow had fallen over him and blocked out the warmth of the sun. He had turned, confused, to look around the marketplace- but he found that the marketplace was no longer there.  He was standing in a void of sorts. His previous surroundings had been replaced with shroud of darkness, as dense as wet velvet. Adam let out a quiet breath, bewildered.

"What has happened?" He said under his breath.  He looked down and found that, in spite of the oppressive darkness that obscured everything else, his own body was still perfectly visible.  In fact, he seemed to be bathed in light from some unseen source- brilliant, coppery light that make his skin shimmer and his white robe glow.  He lifted his hands to inspect them, and found that minuscule motes of light were flying around them like a swarm of luminous gnats. He gave his hands a shake in an attempt to shoo them away, but they were insistent.  They began to touch down on his skin, growing brighter as they did. Alarmed, Adam looked around once more.

"Is anyone there?" He called.  "Peter? Richard?"

There was no answer.  In fact, there was no sound at all from the darkness, save what Adam could only imagine was the toll of a very far-off bell.  Even his own voice sounded muffled.

He took an uneasy step forward, reaching out with groping hands in case this was some sort of illusion, and the physical reality of the market still lay beyond the darkness.  But his hands simply passed through empty space unimpeded. His foot settled on a distinct, hard floor.

Dizzied by the blackness, Adam staggered and, with nothing to grab onto, fell painfully onto his rump.  "Ouch!" He exclaimed, pain making him immediately indignant. "What in the world is going on?"

His voice was lost instantly in the void, so that he himself scarcely heard the words.  Now, with only the illumination of his own body to preserve him from total darkness, he began to grow afraid.  What he had at first assumed was yet another misfiring of his mysterious powers was beginning to seem more sinister.  Adam looked down at his hands once more, and found that the hoard of light-motes had all migrated to his skin, creating constellations on his hands and forearms.  In his growing anxiety, he tried to brush them off. His efforts were fruitless; they remained adhered to him. He gave up quickly, giving the darkness all around him a desperate scan.  His eyes fell on one irregularity in all the uniform blackness- a patch of light and color, like a window looking out onto the real world. He hurried towards it, trusting the void in front of him to remain flat and even.  It was a good way off, it seemed- soon he was running, afraid that it would suddenly close up and he would be lost in the dark once more.

But it remained steady as he approached; soon he was able to look through and see that it was indeed a window, although it didn't look upon any world he was familiar with.  He was looking into a large, lavishly furnished bedroom. He could see polished wood floors and black stone walls. Directly ahead of him was a massive bed, luxuriously decorated with fur blankets and piles of cushions.

Adam furrowed his brow.  He extended a hand towards the window, expecting his fingertips to meet with a barrier of sorts.  But instead, they passed right through. A portal. It was low enough that Adam was able to climb out, and that he did.  He stepped into the bedroom, looking around at once. He quickly found that he was alone, the only other occupant of the room being a large red bird in an ornate cage to his left.  This he walked immediately over to, examining the creature within. It was a beautiful animal, with streaks of yellow and orange in its feathers. It cocked its crested head and looked shrewdly at him.

"Hello there," Adam said.  "I don't suppose you could tell me where I am?"

The bird ruffled its feathers and turned away.  Adam sighed. He continued to look around the room.  The decor was as macabre as it was beautiful- there were weapons hung on the walls, gleaming silver axes and polished swords.  The furs spread over the bed had the petrified heads of their former bearers still attached, faces frozen into toothy snarls. Most unsettling, however, was a painting that hung on the far wall.  It depicted a group of people gathered around a reflecting pool, their hands reaching skyward as though in spiritual celebration. Above them, a massive building occupied much of the sky, its high walls and towers looming like a thunderhead above the group.  Adam couldn't say exactly what was so disquieting about the image, although he figured it was the faces of the apparent celebrants below the great structure. They were grimacing, and it was impossible to say if it was an expression of ecstasy or agony.

His study of the painting was interrupted by the sound of a door opening.  Adam turned, startled, and found that another had joined him in the room. It was a young woman, probably not much older than Mantis.  She was obscured from head to toe by long crimson robes- only her face was visible. In one hand, she was holding a small plate with a goblet balanced on it.

"Master Adam," she said at length.  Her voice was quiet and grave.

"Who are you?" He asked.  "And where am I?"

"My name is Sister Ahiti," the woman replied.  "You are aboard the Templeship _Benediction_.  You are our honored guest."

"I don't feel especially honored," Adam retorted sharply.  "Snatched away from my nice day at the market, and for what?"

Sister Ahiti looked slightly taken aback at his tone.  "Your lordship," she said. "The Matriarch offers her hospitality."  She proffered the goblet, which, after a moment's hesitation, Adam took.  It was full with a flat liquid so deeply red that it looked black. It smelled of spoiled fruit.

"Is this Matriarch around?" Adam asked, returning the goblet to the platter untouched.  "I should like to speak to her."

Ahiti frowned.  "That would be most unusual.  She does not hold audiences."

Adam was unperturbed.  "Tell her that as her honored guest, I demand to meet my kidnapper."

Ahiti dipped her head, looking rather distressed, and turned to leave once more.  Adam let out a sigh.  
"I do hope that Peter isn't fretting," he said to the bird.

\------

Adam spent a long time sitting in silence.  He seated himself on the bed, finding it plush and comfortable, but smelling overwhelmingly of heady incense.  He folded and unfolded his hands, looking listlessly around the gloomy room and only now realizing that it was totally free of windows.  That, he decided, was part of the reason that the place made him so uneasy. His mind moved from contemplating this to thinking anxiously about Quill- poor loving Quill, who was undoubtedly very confused about Adam's disappearance.  He hoped that he would have his audience with this Matriarch soon, so that he could get to the bottom of this unseemly abduction and return.  
At last, there was a gentle knock on the door.  It opened before Adam could respond, and now a different woman- dressed much the same as Sister Ahiti had been- entered.  She was older, silvery-skinned, with a stern countenance and broad shoulders. She looked down her long nose at Adam where he sat and said, "Good day, Master Adam.  I understand that you have requested an audience with Her Holiness."

"Demanded, actually," Adam responded lightly.  "I presume you are another Sister?"

"I am Mother Valaego, Superior of the Sisterhood of Hand.  I have been instructed to accompany you to the audience with Her Holiness."

Adam rose, giving the woman a satisfied smile.  He smoothed his linen robe and brushed a curl from his eyes.  "Lead the way."

She did; he followed her from the room into the gaunt grey hallway beyond.  The air was crisply cold and smelled of blown-out candles. As they walked, Adam looked around for the source of the watery light that filled the passage, but he could find no fixtures or windows.  "Curious," he murmured.

They proceeded in silence, Adam a few paces behind the Mother Superior.  He paid her little mind, instead studying their surroundings and considering what sort of magic was binding this place together- every seam of the structure around them seemed imbued with an otherworldly light.  The stones of the walls were carved with elaborate designs, the minutiae of which appeared to move slightly as they passed. And, every so often, Adam again heard the toll of that strange bell. It sounded much closer now.

The passage was unchanging for a long while.  At last, it opened up onto a much larger room.  Adam was immediately struck by the height of the ceiling- so high that the top of the room was lost in darkness.  He studied the massive pillars supporting this ceiling, each as elaborately carved as the walls of the hallway. Set at the back of this room was a wide stone staircase leading to an altar of sorts.  At the middle of this dais was a massive golden throne, unoccupied. As Mother Valaego led him to stand in front of the altar, Adam noticed that the only window in the room was directly above it. It was a large, round window of stained glass, which depicted an abstract design of intersecting lines.  Each resulting segment was a different hue. Adam got an impression of stars beyond the tinted glass.

Somewhere, an unseen door opened noisily.  Adam watched calmly as a woman emerged onto the stage, wearing robes in the same color as Mother Valaego's- but far less modest.  She had milk-white skin and a head of curly auburn hair. She was quite lovely- middle-aged, regal, with eyes lined in black and lips painted crimson.  She came to stand in the middle of the altar, looking down the stairs at Adam and Valaego. Her thin eyebrows arched.

"Adam," she said, her voice deep and breathy.  "What an honor it is to have you here."

Adam stared back at her.  "The Matriarch, I presume."

She smiled.  "Please, your lordship, call me Aqwen.  I hope you found the room we prepared for you comfortable."

Adam, holding her dark gaze, said, "Comfortable indeed.  A bit sepulchral for my taste."

Aqwen laughed.  "Ah, Adam, I see you are not much changed."

Adam bristled immediately.  "What are you talking about?  We have never met."

At this, the woman blinked a few times.  Then, she gave a small and humorless smile.  "You tease. Surely you must remember."

Adam was wracking his brain for any recollection of this woman.  Now that he came to it, she _was_ familiar, in the same sense that many things had been familiar to him recently- as though he were recalling a dream from long ago.

"I'm sorry," he said at last.  "I'm afraid... I don't know."

Aqwen sighed a bit.  "I see," she intoned.  "It seems that the regeneration has caused you some loss of memory.  No bother, we will get you back up to speed quickly enough."

Adam, who found his spine prickling with pins and needles, took a step back.  "I think perhaps you have made some mistake," he said, although in his heart he knew that she had not.  "There was another called Adam, but I am not him. He died a long time ago."

"I know that, of course, Aqwen responded evenly.  "We have gone to such trouble to get you back. How foolish of us not to have anticipated a... spontaneous rebirth."

Adam shook his head.  "I'm sorry that you troubled yourselves-"

"Save your breath, Adam."  Now a slightly sour note had crept into the woman's voice.  "I see right through you."

Adam looked down, half-expecting to see whatever she was looking at for himself.  But there was nothing, simply the solid mass of his chest under his blouse. He reached up and laid a hand there, testing the flesh.  It was unyielding.

"You are telling me that I am a phantom," he said quietly, "A revenant."

"A reincarnation, I think, would be a more apt description."

Adam swallowed.  Was this really a surprise?  Or had he known this, in some deep secret part of him, since he had looked upon that picture in the history book and seen himself staring back?

"You knew me?" He asked.

The Matriarch nodded.  "Oh, we were very well acquainted."

"Was I... the master here?" He looked around suddenly at the vaulting ceiling, the stained glass, the throne.   _The Church._

"Despite our greatest efforts, no," Aqwen replied.  "You were a young, capricious thing then, and cared not to be tied down or held responsible for anything.  But now, perhaps, you will find that your opinion of us has changed."

“Not bloody likely," Adam replied, and the word came out more tartly than he had intended.  He was remembering things suddenly, ugly and stomach-churning things. He recalled with perfect clarity Quill telling him that the Church had destroyed Gamora's home and murdered her people en masse.  "Very unlikely indeed."

Aqwen smiled once more, and this time there was no hint of friendliness or affection in it.  "I was afraid you might say that."

He let out a great breath.  "You've given me a great deal to think about," he said.  "I shall retire, and we can discuss this further after I have had time to consider this new information."

The Matriarch said, "You are as entitled and presumptuous as ever, aren't you?"

Adam raised an eyebrow.  "I would say that abducting someone from their peaceful life in an effort to sway them to your cause embodies entitlement, wouldn't you?"

So saying, he turned on his heel and, without awaiting the escort of Mother Valaego, made his way back down the hall.  He had put on a show of confidence, but inside, he was weak and trembling. He felt as though the ground had been pulled out from under him.  He had so much to process, and the idea of being alone with his thoughts seemed unbearable. He wanted Quill, the man's comfort and reassurance.  He wanted to see Drax and Mantis and Gamora.

_Gamora_ , he thought suddenly, his heart leaping to his throat.  Was she here, being held captive- or worse? The thought made his chest grow tight with panic.

He hurried down the hall and slipped back into the room he had first arrived in.  It felt more welcoming now, although he avoided looking at the painting on the far wall.  He knew now why it unsettled him so.

He paced a while, consumed.  He hadn't felt this afraid since the night he had returned to Sovereign and found Ayesha awaiting him.

Did _she_ know?  Did Father?  Were all but he privy to this incredibly knowledge- that not only did he share a name and likeness with this former Adam, but that they were the very same person?

At last, he settled on the bed, folding his legs under him.  He brought his hands to his face, tracing his features with his fingertips.  He touched the ridge of his brow, his strong nose, his high cheekbones. He felt his lips and- if he pressed a little- his teeth below.  He tried to decide if any of it felt familiar. He closed his eyes, trying to focus his racing mind. Maybe if he could meditate, he could conjure up some more solid memories of what his prior life had been like.

But before he could do that, a strange noise snapped him back to attention.  He opened his eyes, and found that, once again, the world around him was gone.  The room had been replaced by the velvety blackness, all light snuffed out. He got to his feet at once.

"What is the meaning of this?" He called indignantly to no one in particular.  He was surprised to be answered at once.

"I was afraid that you would resist our attempts to sway you," the Matriarch's voice rang out.  "You were always a stubborn, arrogant creature. But you will find that we are determined, Adam, and far better equipped to deal with you than we were at our last meeting."

Adam looked around, his heart rate increasing.  He could see no sign of the woman in the darkness.  
"This is absurd," he said.  "You think threats will persuade me to listen to your reasoning?"

"I think that you will find that our threats are not without weight."

As she spoke, a sharp pain had begun in Adam's hands.  He looked down to see that the swarm of light-motes had returned, this time in greater numbers.  They were clustering around his extremities and latching onto his skin once more. This time, however, every touch was painful.  He scrubbed helplessly at his hands, and when that proved fruitless, tucked them under his arms to protect them. But the pain was unrelenting.

"What are they?" He demanded, working to keep his voice even.

"Devices of my own creation," the Matriarch replied.  "They will dry up that bloody magic of yours until you give us what we want."

"And if I refuse?"

"They are the first of many tools in our employ."

Adam swallowed, his jaw clenching as the pain continued to intensify.  Soon it was as though his hands were on fire. He looked around, his vision growing narrow with panic.

"I will not capitulate to you," he hissed.

"We shall see about that, Adam."

His head swimming, Adam looked around in the darkness one more time.  This time, his eyes fell on something in the dimness- at first it was simply an indeterminable mass of color, but as he squinted at it, he realized that it was the bird, wheeling in circles amidst the void and watching him with yellow eyes.


	6. A Shot in the Dark

Gamora did not get to enjoy Richard's embrace for very long.  She found herself being fairly wrenched out of it by Quill, who took her by the shoulders and looked her dead in the eye.

"What do you know?" He said, his voice toeing the border of desperation and demand.

"It's the Church," Gamora said at once.  "They took him."

" _How_ do you know?" 

"I spent the last 3 weeks interrogating their Acolytes.  They're the ones who opened that rift on the mining outpost.  They have been trying to bring Adam back for years."

Quill blinked several times, clearly confused.  "What do you mean, bring him back? He was just born eight months ago."

"There was another Adam.  Ayesha told me all about him after we arrested her.  The Church thought they could resurrect him by going back in time, but they failed.  And now there's a new Adam, and they want him instead."

"But why?"

"I don't know that.  We could only get so much information from the Acolytes."

Quill released Gamora, stepping away from her and heading to the window to look out in a state of helpless bewilderment.  Gamora watched him carefully. His hands were balled into white-knuckled fists, and his chest was heaving convulsively.

"Peter," she murmured.  "Try to stay calm."

"How can this be happening again?" He snarled.  When he turned around to face her once more, his eyes were bright and hard, full of a strange cold light.  She had only seen his eyes like that once before- when he had been facing Thanos during that fateful last battle.  "We rescued him once from Ayesha, and now we have to go after this goddamn Church."

"We will get him back," Gamora promised emphatically.  "But we have to think first."

Quill shook his head.  "I can't think," he breathed.  "How can I think? You told me what the Church is like.  What they did to your people. What are they gonna do to Adam?"

"I don't know."

"We can't waste any time."

"No.  But there's a problem.  No one knows where the Church is, not even their Acolytes.  It's not going to be easy to find it."

Quill stared at her for a long time.  "It could be anywhere?"

She nodded.

"And we have no idea how to start locating it?"

"No."

Quill let out a shuddering breath, his face falling from anger to despair.  He didn't weep, which in Gamora's mind was far more disturbing that if he had.  He said nothing and made no sound, in fact. He simply clasped a hand over his eyes and stood in silence.

"We're going to find them," Gamora said quietly.  "I promise. I won't rest until we have him back."

Richard stepped forward, placing a hand on Quill's back.  The man did not respond to his touch in any way. Richard nudged him along, guiding him to the sofa.

"Sit tight there, Pete," he said softly.  "We're gonna figure this out, alright?"

Quill gave a small unintelligible noise.  Richard looked to Gamora.

"Come here," he said, getting to his feet.  He led Gamora from the living room to his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

"Tell me you have a plan," he whispered.

"I do.  Sort of.  I'm working on it."

He nodded, kneading the bridge of his nose between two fingers.  "If we don't get Adam back..."

"I know.  We saw how Quill responded last time."

"We'll lose him."

Gamora's stomach turned at these ominous words.  But she knew that Richard was correct in this assertion.  Quill was not cut out to weather the loss of the one person who had ever returned his romantic feelings.  If they didn't get to Adam in time to save him from whatever depravity the Church had planned, there was no telling what Quill's fate could hold.  And that was to say nothing of Adam himself; she shuddered to think of what he was suffering at the hands of the Church.

"Listen," she said quietly.  "There's a group of girls downstairs, waiting for me to give them instruction."

"Girls?" Richard echoed vaguely.

"Yes.  We're kind of a team.  They've been helping me."

He clearly had more questions, but apparently decided that now was not the time.  "What about them?"

Gamora swallowed a few times, considering this question.  At last, she let out a harsh sigh of frustration. “I don’t know.”

Richard was watching her steadily, his brown eyes warm with sympathy.  “I’m sure we’ll think of something,” he said quietly.

“I’m never going to think of anything with all this adrenaline in my brain.  I need some exercise.”

“What, like a run or something?”

She rubbed her hands briskly.  “I haven’t seen you in three weeks, and you honestly think that a run is the kind of physical activity I had in mind?”

Richard stared at her for a moment, mouth open slightly.  “Are you serious? _That’s_ what you’re thinking about at a time like this?”

“I have needs.”

He sighed.  She knew, from the gleam in his eyes and the way he planted his hands on his waist, that he was wanting, too.  She laid her hand flat on his chest, letting out a long breath.

“This kid has been nothing but trouble,” Richard said under his breath as he moved in to kiss her.

This, she conceded.  “But Peter loves him.  And I don’t mind him either.”

He chuckled in a strained and humorless way; then, he pressed his mouth to her neck.

\-----

In the twenty minutes that Richard and Gamora had left him alone, Quill had not moved an inch.  He was sitting, looking exhausted and hopeless, on the sofa, hands laying limply beside him. Gamora, struggling to get the zipper of her leather jacket up, said, “Come on, Peter.  We’re going home to get the others.”

“And then what?” He responded quietly.  “Did you think of something?”

She hesitated.  “Not yet, but we’re going to get a plan together.  Come on, get up!”

He looked up at her a moment with filmy, red-rimmed eyes.  “I should have known this was all too good to last.”

“Don’t start talking like that,” Richard said, moving around the sofa to place a comforting hand on Quill’s shoulder.  Quill flinched at his touch. “Gamora has some friends downstairs, apparently. And they’re gonna help. Or something.”

“Come down and meet them,” Gamora said.  “They’re really excited about you.”

Quill got to his feet, letting out a trembling sigh.  He followed Richard and Gamora wordlessly from the apartment down the stairs to the lobby.  Waiting there, as promised, was a gaggle of tired-looking women in muddy clothing.

“There you are,” said Ganymede.  “We were starting to get worried.”

Behind her, Spirit was watching Richard and Quill with eyes like saucers.  Actually, Gamora realized, it was just Quill. She rolled her eyes.

“I believe some introductions are in order,” Richard prompted gently.

“Right,” Gamora responded.  “Peter, Richard. Ganymede, Stellaris, Cerise, Spirit, and Tana Nile.  They’ve been helping me with my… research.”

Spirit was stepping forward, watching Quill the way a child watches a fireworks show.  “Mr. Star-Lord,” she breathed. “It’s really you.”

Quill gave a weak smile.  “Sure is.”

“Leave him alone, Spirit,” Stellaris said.  “The man looks like he’s been through hell. No offense.”

“None taken,” Quill replied.  Then he was turning, sweeping the lobby with his fire-bright eyes.  “We should check the records,” he said. “Maybe there’s something on file here about the Church’s location.”

“We’re getting him involved now, too?” Cerise said.

“I was involved the second they stole my fucking boyfriend,” Quill said with uncharacteristic harshness.  Cerise blinked at him in surprise.

“He’s right,” Gamora interjected.  “The Corps _must_ have encountered the Church in the past.  But there’s bound to be a lot to sort through.”

“Well, let’s quit wasting time, then.”  Quill brushed past the group of girls and started off towards Nova Records.

“Gods,” Spirit said, her eyes still gleaming as she watched him go.  “He’s even hotter in person.”

Although the security guard outside of Nova Records looked at Gamora’s horde of bedraggled strangers with notable suspicion, he did not try to stop their entry.  They were with two Nova officials, after all- and if that wasn’t convincing enough, there was also the threat of an agitated, sizable Titan hybrid looming over him.  So they got through into the labyrinth of shelves and computer monitors beyond. Gamora had been into this part of headquarters only once before, so she looked to Richard to lead the way.

“Thankfully, they finally finished digitizing all their hard files about a year ago,” he said as they approached one of the massive computer monitors situated between bookshelves.  “We’d never get through everything otherwise. Anyway, let’s get to work.”

Using his fingerprint to access the records, he typed a few key phrases into the search bar: _Universal Church of Truth, location, incident._  He ran the search, and after a moment of buffering, made a pained sound.

“Thirteen thousand hits,” he said quietly.  “That’s a lot of reading.”

“Quill, bring up another monitor.  Start at the bottom of the list,” Gamora instructed.  “We’ll start at the top.”

“And what do you want us to do?” Stellaris asked.

Gamora looked at her blankly for a moment.  “Start somewhere in the middle. Tell us right away if you find anything that might point us in the right direction.”

That said, she turned her attention to the monitor.  “The first result is from almost a hundred years ago,” she said.

Richard brought the link up.  Gamora scanned the report summary.  “Universal Church of Truth kidnaps 13 high-ranking Rigellian officials,” the form stated.  “Captives taken to an unknown location.”

“Move on to the next one.”

“But I wasn’t done-”

“Just go!”

Richard obeyed.  The next link began with the words, “Location of Universal Church of Truth’s headquarters still unknown- investigation ongoing.”

She gave a sigh.  The next 18 files were much the same- a lot of investigations had been undertaken by the Nova Corps, it seemed, to uncover the Church’s ultimate location.  All had been fruitless.

“Any luck, Pete?” Richard called to Quill, about fifteen feet from them at the next monitor.

“Nothing yet.”

Richard scrolled a ways.  “I’m sure we’ll get something,” he said under his breath.

As he spoke, Gamora’s eyes fell on another listing- this one from more than 30 years prior.  She watched numbly as Richard clicked it. Her eyes scanned the first sentence of the report summary.  “ _Universal Church of Truth strongly suspected in planet-wide destruction on Zen Whoberi…_ ”

Richard realized what they were reading, and clicked abruptly away.  “Sorry.”

They went on with this business for nearly an hour, until Gamora’s eyes were stinging from overuse.  Just when she was going to suggest that another method might be in order, Quill slammed a hand down on the table he was seated at.

“This is pointless!” He exclaimed.  “We’re wasting time, and they’re doing god-knows-what to him!”

Richard got out of his seat at once, hurrying to Quill’s side.  “Take it easy,” Gamora heard him whisper. “It’s alright.”

She saw Quill’s shoulders heave, and thought bitterly that he didn’t deserve this.  He had such love to give, and the Universe seemed intent upon tearing it away- first Ayesha, now this.

“Ayesha,” Gamora said.  “I’ll bet Ayesha knows something.”

Quill and Richard were looking up at her now.  She went on, “She’s the one that told me about the first Adam, the one our Adam was made to replace.  If someone was after her creation, I’m sure she knew.”

“Let’s go, then,” Quill said at once.  “I never did get to talk to her before.  And I had so much I wanted to say.”

Gamora beckoned for the girls.  “Come on, ladies. We’re heading over to Sovereign.  Peter, call the Guardians. We’re gonna want all the help we can get.”

Obediently, Quill summoned the rest of the team.  They all arrived promptly, and were duly shocked both at the sight of Gamora and their leader’s emotional state.

“The Church took Adam,” Gamora explained quickly.  “We’ve got to get over to Sovereign right away.”

“We are spending way too much time on that creepy gilded sandpit,” Rocket said as they started towards the hangar.   _Aurora_ was still in the shop, so they would need a Nova vessel.

“I agree completely,” Quill replied.  “But I swear- this will be the last time this happens.  We’re going to find Adam, and when we do, I’m going to kill whoever it is that took him with my bare hands.”

The rest of the team, moved to silence by the intensity of his words, followed duly.  As they boarded a Nova vessel, Drax caught up to Gamora.

“I’m glad to see you alive and in one piece,” he said, pulling her into a hearty embrace.

“Did you doubt me?” She asked into his shoulder.

“Of course not.  But I am glad nonetheless.”

They settled in, seated in the cabin behind Quill.  He set the ship’s course for Sovereign, then guided the ship from the docking bay out into the Xandarian evening.

“Y’all might need to hold me back,” he said.  Gamora watched his pallid reflection in the windshield.  “I’m about ready to throttle any information Ayesha might have out of her.”

“You may just need to,” Gamora replied.  “She hasn’t been the most forthcoming person, historically speaking.”

“If she cares about him at all, she’ll cough it up.”

With this, Quill seemed to exhaust all that he had to say on the subject.  He fixed his eyes somewhere in the distance and was silent for the remainder of the journey.


	7. Direct Action

As Quill had anticipated, their vessel was met with a small pack of Sovereign gunships almost as soon as they had broken the atmosphere.  He did not let up on the ship's accelerator, even as the gunships closed in on them. He knew that they were of relatively delicate construction, and did not stand a chance against the reinforced hull of a Nova ship.  The first gunship reached them, and collided clumsily with the advancing vessel. Everyone inside was jostled about violently, and from somewhere deep in the hold, alarms began to keen.   


"Peter!" Gamora exclaimed, and he felt her hand close on his shoulder.  He did not relent. He had plowed past the first gunship and was on a direct collision course with another.  Before they had reached each other, however, he found the controls being fairly wrenched from his hands. Gamora had taken over, pulling the ship up into a steep climb to avoid the gunship.   


"Back off, Pete," Richard's voice said.  He clasped Quill's upper arms, guiding him with gentle forcefulness from the pilot's seat.  "You're not thinking straight."   


Quill shrugged him off, returning his gaze to the gunships outside.  They had retreated a ways, perhaps discouraged by the Nova ship's recklessness.  At any rate, a passage had been cleared, and Gamora steered them directly through it.  
Below, the Sovereign city was glittering in the midday sun, heat rising from the gleaming towers and golden spires in shimmery waves.  The ship advanced on it unimpeded. Quill's fists were tight at his sides.  


"Relax," Richard was murmuring.  "We're almost there."   


"How are we planning on getting this information out of Ayesha?" Rocket piped up suddenly.  Richard and Gamora had given the other Guardians an abbreviated summary of what had happened to Adam during the trip over.   


"Leave that to me," Quill answered at once.  "I'll deal with her. The rest of y'all just make sure no one tries to stop me."   


No one seemed willing to argue with him.  Gamora guided the ship down into the city, coasting along until she found a suitable place to land- a small grassy park between two high-rises.  As the ship touched down, she turned to look at Quill.   


"Don't do anything rash," she said firmly.  "We are right here with you, but we won't get anywhere behaving foolishly."   


Quill sucked in a deep breath.  "I promise," he said quietly.   


"Good."   


She gave him one last careful look, and then she was leading the way down the boarding ramp into the brightness of the Sovereign sun.  It was like stepping into an oven- their faces were blasted with arid desert air, their heads and shoulders instantly heated by the fierce sunshine.  Quill began to pant at once. "Jesus, no wonder Adam wanted to leave."   


With that, he started towards the palace, which lay at the end of the road.  Even in the sweltering heat, he felt a chill go up his spine as he looked at the great building.  He hardly knew what to expect once they got inside, but he was fairly certain that Ayesha would be less than hospitable.  But he didn't let the thought deter him- he was going to get the information he needed out of her, no matter the cost.   


Richard and the Guardians stayed close behind him as they walked.  He could feel the tension among them like electricity in the air. He couldn't blame them for being tense; they were seeing a side of their friend that rarely emerged.  He knew that later, when this was all over and Adam was safely back at his side, he would be embarrassed about the way he was behaving. But for now, he needed the anger- it was his fuel in the face of this crisis.   


He noticed as they approached the palace that the streets were almost completely empty.  It could have been attributed to the oppressive heat, he supposed, but he had been to Sovereign before; he knew that it was an odd and uncanny place.  The hair on the back of his neck rose and he looked around suddenly, suddenly feeling a hundred pairs of unseen eyes on them.   


"They know we're coming," he said over his shoulder.   


"Of course they do," Gamora replied.  "You just drove us into one of their ships."   


They continued in silence.  As they reached the palace's front steps and started up, Richard said, "What are we going to do if she doesn't know anything?"   


"She definitely knows something," Quill responded.  "But if she doesn't... I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."   


He hurried up the remainder of the staircase, the sun scorching his shoulders contending with the cold sweat that had come up on his back.   


At the top of the stairs was a set of massive golden doors.  Through these was an equally massive golden foyer, and beyond, the throne room that he seemed to be becoming a frequent visitor of.  There were two guards in suits of gleaming armor standing before the entryway into the throne room, and as the Guardians entered they drew long, gleaming blades from their belts.  Without hesitation, Quill pulled his element gun out of its holster and trained it on one of the guards. He saw the fellow's smooth face crease with fear. It was clear that, despite their elaborate trappings, these guards never saw real action.  Quill felt a pang of pity- if they were treated anything like Adam had been while he lived under Ayesha's tyranny, they were frightened, oppressed, and desperate for change. With that in mind, Quill held his gun steady and said, "You've got to let us through.  Adam's life depends on it."   


The guard hesitated.  His companion said something quietly in their language.  Quill knew, too, that the Sovereign people saw Adam as a savior.  They had fairly harassed him in the street to beg for his takeover of Sovereign rule when he had last been here.   


"We have orders not to let you pass," the guard said.   


"Please," Quill said, letting the desperation that had been festering in him creep into his voice.  "I have to talk to Ayesha."   


The guards exchanged an uncertain glance.  Then, the one Quill was aiming at lowered his blade.  Quill holstered the element gun and gave the Sovereign a thankful nod.  Then, they were passing through the doors into the throne room beyond.   


The throne usually occupied by Ayesha was empty.  Standing nearby it was her faithful lieutenant, who was watching the Guardians with his teeth slightly bared.   


"What is the meaning of this?" He called.  "Why were you not stopped by the guards?"   


"Where is Ayesha?" Quill demanded.   


"What business is that of yours, half-breed?"   


"You'd be wise to watch what you call me," Quill snapped.  "I'm fixing to take a page out of your old lady's book and hold this whole place hostage 'til she decides to get here."   


The lieutenant did not respond for a moment, clearly taken aback by Quill's venom.  He was only vaguely aware that the other Guardians had filed into the room behind him.  He heard Richard say, "Where's the Centurion they assigned? I can have him call in backup."   


"No need," Quill said.  "They're cowards. They won't risk any of their own getting injured."   


"You will regret this intrusion," the lieutenant said.  "Her Holiness will be back soon, and she-"   


"Shut up, already," Quill cut him off.  "I'm here for information. If she gives it to me, we'll leave you alone."

The lieutenant paled a bit, but did not argue any further.  This left the Guardians standing in a mostly empty, perfectly silent room.  Gamora grabbed Quill’s elbow, pulling him close.

“Do you have a plan?” She said in a fierce whisper.  “Or are we flying blind here?”

Quill hesitated.  “I have a plan. But I think it would be better if I kept it to myself.”

She squeezed his arm a little.  “Don’t get us killed.”

“I won’t.”

Gamora had opened her mouth as though she had more to say, but she didn’t get a chance.  At this moment, the doors at the back of the throne room opened suddenly, and Ayesha herself strode into the room.  She was followed by two handmaidens, who appeared to be pleading with her. She stopped short at the sight of the Guardians, her eyes locking with Quill’s.

“Micah,” she said, chillingly calm.  The lieutenant started visibly.  
“Your Holiness?”

“Why are the Guardians of the Galaxy standing in my throne room?”  She did not break eye contact with Quill as she spoke.

“They say they must speak with you,” Micah answered.

Ayesha laughed.  “Is that so? And what, pray tell, could they possibly want of me now?”

“What do you know about the Church?” Quill asked, having little patience for frivolities today.  He saw the reaction that this word elicited from her- her back stiffened and her eyes grew momentarily wider.

“What concern are they of yours?”

“They took Adam.”

Ayesha’s golden face went startlingly white.  “How? When?”

“Just a few hours ago.  They snatched him right out from in front of me.”

Ayesha drew a deep breath as though to calm herself.  She took a few steps towards the Guardians, still watching Quill carefully.  “Well,” she said at last. “Adam made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing to do with me.  I suppose he brought this on himself, leaving his fate in the hands of a half-wit mongrel and his  _ convicts _ .”

“We don’t need your help,” Quill responded evenly.  “We just need you to tell us where the Church is.”

Ayesha sniffed.  “And why should I tell you that?”

Quill lunged.  Before Ayesha could move to defend herself, his big hand was wrapping around her throat.  Her skin was hot under his. He tightened his grip until he could feel the cartilage of her larynx against his fingers.  She made a small, alarmed noise.

“Release her, you animal,” Micah exclaimed.  Quill saw him move out of the corner of his eye, and stop short when he realized that the rest of the Guardians had drawn their weapons and were awaiting his next move.  Quill, meanwhile, was staring directly into Ayesha’s face as she gasped and struggled. She clawed uselessly at his forearm; for the time being, he felt nothing. Rage was coloring his vision, and lending him even greater strength than usual.  

“Peter,” Richard and Drax said in unison, as Ayesha’s arms dropped limply to her sides.  With some reluctance Quill released her, and she fell into a heap at his feet, coughing and clutching her throat.

“Bastard man,” she gasped.  “You will answer for that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Quill snapped.  “Now that we’re on the same page, why don’t you tell us what you know about the Church.”

She lifted her head to glare up at him, her amber eyes bloodshot.  “I don’t know where they would have taken him,” she said after a long moment of catching her breath.  “I have only been aboard their templeship twice, and on both occasions I was teleported there at their accord.  I have no way of knowing where it is located.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Quill replied, crouching beside her.  “Gamora told me what you told her. About Adam being a remake.  That’s why they want him, right?”

Ayesha nodded.  “They were trying to bring him back themselves.  What they couldn’t achieve alone they approached us for aid in.  They wanted us to build him again, from scratch. That’s what all this is about.”  She made a vague gesture to their surroundings. “They installed a council to oversee our work.  And while all of our previous attempts at Adam failed, this one was perfect.”

Quill watched her evenly, waiting for her to go on.  But she said, “I have nothing else to say to you. I’ve got myself into enough trouble as it is.”

He got to his feet reluctantly.  “What about Adam’s dad? Would he know anything?”

Ayesha gave a harsh scoff.  “Ask him yourself. That man has been nothing but trouble since he arrived here and I will not endanger my own life further by speaking on his behalf.”

Quill huffed.  “Well, in that case, we appreciate your cooperation.”

“Don’t think I’ve done any of this for your benefit.  If Adam’s life wasn’t depending on you, I would have you  _ castrated… _ ”

He chuckled.  “Another time, maybe.”

He signalled for the Guardians.  “Alright, gang. Let’s get a move on.”  He was loath to return to the home of the High Evolutionary, but Adam’s fate was hanging in the balance and there was no time to waste.  They hurried back outside, where Rocket began to cackle.

“You should have seen her face!” He crowed.  “She sure wasn’t expecting  _ that _ .”

“Were you?” Gamora asked.  “Was that the plan?”

“No,” Quill admitted with a half-smile.  “But it sure did feel alright.”

 

The High Evolutionary’s compound was not far from the palace.  As they approached, Quill began to feel chilly, despite the oppressive heat.  His first meeting with Adam’s father hadn’t been unpleasant, but there was nothing comforting about the man himself.  The same primal fear that had filled Quill the first time was returning now, as the Guardians walked down the garden path lined with statues of animals.

“Doesn’t this make you think of something from back home?” Richard asked as he fell into step beside Quill.

“I guess,” Quill replied.  Now that Richard pointed it out, the architecture of the building they were approaching was strangely familiar.  Even the animals depicted by the statues, he realized, were earthly. This did nothing to ease his anxiety.

Quill knocked on the grand front door, and it was shortly opened by the dog-butler he had met once before.

“Hello,” he said as pleasantly as his current mood would allow for.  “Is Adam’s daddy around?”

“I will announce your arrival,” the butler replied, ushering them inside.

“ _ Well _ ,” Richard said when the butler had shuffled out of sight.

“I know, right?” Quill replied.

“I can’t believe it,” Gamora was saying.  “We really thought he was a myth. No one’s seen or heard of him in ages.”

“Oh, he’s real,” Quill replied.

The butler appeared again.  “Come this way, if you please,” he said.  The Guardians followed obediently. They were led down a neat hallway into a large, sparsely decorated room- the laboratory.  At the center of this room was the High Evolutionary himself, standing with his hands clasped as he watched the Guardians enter.

“Mr. Quill,” he said, not without a hint of fondness.  “What brings you here?”

“The Church took Adam,” Quill replied.  “Ayesha said you might know something.”

The High Evolutionary’s face, being composed entirely of metal, was not particularly expressive, but he managed to look surprised nonetheless.  “Well, that is bad news,” he said. “And while I’m sure Ayesha did her very best to be helpful, I’m afraid she is mistaken. My knowledge of the Church is limited.  They are a highly secretive organization.”

Quill, whose stomach was beginning to ache, said, “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Don’t despair,” the man replied at once.  “Hope is not lost. But we must act quickly.”

“We’ve been trying.  They only took him a few hours ago.”

“That’s good.  Come.” He motioned for Quill, who obeyed readily.  The High Evolutionary led him to stand in front of a large computer screen, which was dark.

“As we discussed during your last visit,” the man was saying as he turned the screen on, “Adam has a small tracking device located in his arm.  I had deactivated it to prevent Ayesha following him when he first fled, but there is a chance I can reactivate it remotely.”

Quill’s heart began to race.  “And if you can’t?” 

“Then we will pursue other options.  But let’s say we give this a try first.”

Quill watched him anxiously as he brought up a series of codes on the computer.  He found himself holding his breath as the High Evolutionary tapped in numbers for several minutes.  After a moment, he said, “The device has been activated. Now we wait to see if it provides any useful coordinates.”

The next several minutes were painful for Quill.  He wrung his hands and bounced on his heels, trying all the while to keep his breathing under control.  Finally, the computer let out a series of tones, and a fresh set of numbers appeared on the screen. The High Evolutionary read them aloud.  “Seventeen, twenty-six, eighty-one…”

“Is that where he is?” Quill exclaimed.  “Where is it?”

Rocket stepped forward suddenly.  “That’s the Ulas quadrant. I been there once before.”

“So you can get us there?” Quill was feeling lightheaded.  He felt the High Evolutionary pat him gently on the back, but was in such a state of anxiety that he barely reacted.

“Of course I can get us there,” Rocket replied.  “But that quadrant is on the far end of the galaxy.  It’ll take us weeks to get there.”


	8. The Void and Its Inhabitants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a warning- this chapter contains fairly graphic images that some may find upsetting, so please proceed with caution!

The passage of time was an impossible thing to mark, in the void of darkness that had become Adam's abode.  Here it was perpetually night- and a moonless, starless night at that. Even his brief glimpses of the world beyond his prison were vague and told him nothing of how long he had been here.  It may have been hours and it may have been days. He had been alone for much of this nondescript stretch of time, with only the sounds of his own breathing and that peculiar bird to keep him company.  And while such solitude would have been maddening under any other circumstance, it was far better than his other option. He had learned quickly to take refuge in the dark, in fact, for it meant a respite, however brief, from the assaults of the Matriarch and all her insidious workings.

Her magic-stifling fireflies had been the least of the weapons in her arsenal, as it turned out.  They  _ hurt _ , of course, and no matter how many times Adam insisted that he had no control over his powers, no real grasp of their scope, she refused to call them off.  But they had become the only constant in his life, and despite the discomfort of their presence he was almost glad for them. They provided a light in the darkness of the his shadowy prison, preserving him from total darkness.  They also proved an anchor of sorts when the Matriarch made her attempts on his mind. If he could just focus on the physical pain, he still had the fortitude to keep her out. But even this, the last of his defenses, would not hold out forever.

Now, curled into a ball with his throbbing hands held close to his belly, he watched the steam of his breath be illuminated by the fireflies’ glow.  He was drifting in and out of sleep, trying to take hold of what rest he could. He knew that the Matriarch would return soon. He didn’t bother himself wondering what methods of torment she brought with her this time, or whether it would be successful in gaining her what she sought.

What exactly it was she sought, he could not venture a guess.  

She had spoken at great length about his first form- as she had called him,  _ the Archetype.   _ Adam, even in his fragile mental state, had learned a great deal.  The Archetype had been the ruler of the Sovereign several decades prior.  He had been born as any natural creature was- to two parents, who had raised him from a helpless infant and trained him in the ways of ruling.  As a young adult, he had grown disillusioned with the life of royalty and left Sovereign in search of adventure. He had found it in the company of two princes from Titan- Thanos and Eros.  This revelation had been perhaps the most jarring for Adam. He knew the latter of these two princes, of course, as the father of his beloved Peter. The former, Peter had mentioned in passing, and the name had stirred up distant memories in Adam.

“You were quite the trio,” the Matriarch had said, voice dripping condescension.  “Very assured of yourselves and quite determined to upset our careful machinations.”

At this, Adam had found himself smiling.

“It was even worse when that blasted Kree joined your ranks,” she went on.  “ _ Mar-Vell.   _ He rivaled even you in arrogance.  The four of you caused nothing but trouble for us.  You freed our slaves and interrupted our ceremonies.  It was chaos.”

She hated disorder, Adam had learned.  She was a tidy woman and a heavy-handed one.  He had seen underlings run to carry out her meticulous orders as though their lives depended on it.  He suspected that they did.

“So you had me killed?” Adam had asked, back when he had had the strength to use his voice.

The Matriarch had laughed.  “Oh, no. We didn’t get the chance.  No, it was an illness that felled the mighty Adam.  Some fever you picked up on one of your  _ adventures _ , I am assured.  The Sovereign did have such weak constitutions, back then.”

He had learned, too, of just how entwined in his current life the Church was.  After the Archetype’s untimely death, the Sovereign were left without a suitable ruler.  And so the Church, ever opportunistic, had sent an envoy to the planet to propose a new system of leadership entirely- a rule by council.  The Sovereign people had resisted, but the Church had their methods of persuasion.

“How many had to die?” Adam had asked coldly, thinking of Gamora’s lost people once more.

“Not a terrible amount,” the Matriarch had answered offhandedly.  “A few particularly vocal dissenters. We were surprised by how quickly the rest came around.”

The Enclave was the name the Church’s newly-established council gave themselves.  And once they had their footing, they got to work on remodeling Sovereign in their own twisted vision at once.

“Each citizen would have a purpose,” the Matriarch boasted, her voice filled with a perverse pride.  “Each working towards the good of the Church and our empire. We had workers to build our ships, farmers to grow our crops, even maids to tend us here.”

This was no lie; Adam has seen the familiar golden figures, moving through the shadowy interior of the templeship like the mobile parts of some great machine.

“More importantly,” the Matriarch had gone on, “we were granted access to all of Sovereign’s precious resources.  All so we could get to work on remaking you.”

“But  _ why _ ?” Adam had whispered.  “Why did you want me?”

“It was foretold.  There are ancient prophecies that tell of the Sovereign who will lead the Church to greatness.  When your first incarnation died having evaded all of our attempts to claim his loyalty, we thought that the chance had slipped past us.  But how could that be, when it was written so clearly?”

She had not seemed content with telling him.  She had hauled him to his feet and fairly dragged him from his prison back into the bright world.  From there, they had gone down a long hallway lined with paintings as grimly glorious as the one in the bedroom- faces turned in terror or ecstacy towards massive ships overhead, crowds being presided over by towering figures in scarlet armor.  At last, they had passed through a door that led onto a small room, one wall of which was almost entirely occupied by yet another painting. This one depicted a lone figure in blood-colored robes, standing on a rocky precipice with a fat-yellow moon behind him.

“There,” the Matriarch had said, smiling.  “As it was foretold.”

Adam had examined the painting a moment, confused.  “Why, that’s not me at all. I’m not bloody  _ purple _ .”

But the Matriarch had been unwavered by this seemingly glaring mistake.  “It  _ is  _ you.  There is no doubt.  You will yield to us eventually, Adam, one way or another.”

Back in the present time, Adam was now on the edge of sleep.  It had largely evaded him, and what slumber he had managed had been haunted by a single terrible vision.  He had seen his own body, laid naked on a slab- his eyes closed and sunken, his skin chalky white. As the nightmare progressed, he had slowly risen from this apparent death, opening his eyes to reveal colorless orbs of light.  His white complexion had flushed to that ghastly purple as in the painting. His hair had gone perfectly white.

But this time, as he drifted, it was not this phantom that he saw.  Instead, he found himself on the balcony of the Guardians’ apartment, sitting as he had many times beside Peter.  His hand was gently clasped in the man’s, the pain of the fireflies forgotten. They looked up at the stars together a while, and when Adam finally tore his gaze away from the sky to look at his lover, he found that Peter’s face seemed to glow, as though he were lit from within by some heavenly light.  He smiled his steady, soothing smile and said, “Don’t give up. I’m coming to get you.”

“Oh, Peter,” Adam gasped, feeling hot tears begin to course down his face.  “I have been nothing but trouble for you.”

Peter reached out, one enormous hand cupping Adam’s chin.  “No tears, my sweetheart. I’ll fight the whole universe for you.”

Adam awakened with a start.  He brought his hand up to his face, finding it wet.  He sat up, pulling his thin robes tight around him and trying to ignore the pain in his hands.  But, to his surprise, he found that it had lessened somewhat- as if the touch of his dream-lover had soothed away the pain.  He felt a curious rising in his chest.

“He will come,” he said, looking towards where the strange red bird was perched, watching him with reptilian eyes.  “And when he does…”

“Who’s that, Adam?”

Adam jumped, turning to look for the source of the voice.  He hadn’t realized that the Matriarch was already here. She was standing a short ways away from him, holding a tall staff in one hand.  She looked as she always did, smug and coldly calm. Adam, feeling a strange sort of confidence following the dream, said, “Star-Lord and his companions.  The Guardians of the Galaxy.”

The Matriarch laughed.  “Oh, yes, I’ve heard all about him and his ilk.  Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in with them. A pack of thieves and scoundrels led by a Terran mongrel.”

“He is the son of Eros,” Adam snapped, “and when he finds what you’ve done to me, you will answer to his wrath.”

“I’m very afraid,” the Matriarch responded, still laughing to herself.  Then, rather suddenly, the smile dropped from her face and she looked deathly serious.  “You seem altogether too fond of him, however. I would hate to think that all of our hard work had been spoiled by some horny pirate.”

Adam watched her defiantly.  “And it had been? If I told you that  _ horny pirate  _ makes love to me every chance he gets?” It wasn’t true, of course- Quill had not even been successful in deflowering Adam, as it stood- but the look of disgust that had crept onto the Matriarch’s face was too delicious.

“We may need to take more drastic measures than I had anticipated,” she said.  “And when he arrives, if he is indeed coming for you, I will personally let his blood.  I would have thought better of you, Adam.”

She raised the staff from the floor now, aiming its tapered end at his chest.  Adam didn’t flinch- he knew what was coming. First it would be a wave of dizziness so powerful that he could only lay and cling to whatever solid part of the void he could grasp.  The nausea that followed would leave him gagging, and after that would be a pain so wretched that he could not cry out, only lay in a twitching, trembling heap while his mind was flooded with flashing colors and frightening sounds.  He could hear children screaming, women weeping, men shouting in fright.

But he was not at all prepared for what was delivered unto him instead.  It began as a twinge in his belly, deep inside him. He furrowed his brow, looking up at the Matriarch at once.

“Since you are so intent upon defiling your body,” she said, “now you can experience the consequences firsthand.”

The pain was mounting quickly, turning from a twinge into a spasm.  It wracked his whole abdomen; his spine arched in and his toes curled spasmodically.  He gave a choked cry, looking away from the Matriarch even as she began to speak.

“Let this mark your transformation, Adam,” she said.  “Once, you were our betrayer, and we called you Warlock.  Soon you will take to the throne as our High Priest, and your proper title will be given to you.”

Adam barely heard her.  The pain was coming in waves, each one increasing in intensity until he was a writhing heap, gasping for air between spasms of pain.  His vision grew dim, and he was only vaguely aware that another voice suddenly rang out from somewhere beyond the void.

“Your Holiness,” someone was saying.  “You must come at once. There has been a breech, and the templeship has been boarded.”  
“Did you hear that, Adam?” The woman crowed.  “It sounds like your little boyfriend may have found us after all.”

Adam, curled into a ball with his arms cradling his stomach, let out a little sob of agony.  The Matriarch went on, “Do try to hold out until I get back. When you’re finished here, you can come and watch me cut your Star-Lord’s pretty head off.  Do you fancy that?”

“Peter,” Adam whispered, the pain forcing out any confidence he had felt in regards to the man’s arrival.  He was going to get himself killed on Adam’s behalf. This thought was nearly as agonizing as the pain in his belly, which was growing to a white-hot intensity now.  Through tunneling vision, Adam saw the Matriarch sweep by him where he lay and disappear from sight. 

All alone, he let out a high, thin cry.  He didn’t know what to make of this pain- it was unlike anything she had inflicted upon him before.  It seemed to be driving every sane thought from his head. Instead, his mind’s eye was crowded with horrific visions twice as terrifying as any nightmare.  There were the Guardians, laying in a bleeding heap where the Church’s armored warriors had cut them down; his sweet Peter, victim to an executioner’s axe. He saw his own body once more, bloodless and mummified- a lifeless corpse twitching slowly back to life, hands curling and uncurling, mouth gaping wide to show teeth sharpened to points.  He saw parched pallid skin and shocks of deathly-white hair.

Eventually, the pain grew too severe for him even to move.  He could only lay, inert, as the agony overtook him. As he lay, the pictures playing like some twisted film in his mind began to change.  He started to see stars- vast swathes of innumerable stars, glittering and gleaming like a billion gemstones scattered over velvet. It was an immensely soothing change, and suddenly he could swear that the pain abated slightly.  He watched the stars move, as he had watched them from the window of  _ Aurora,  _ roving past in a kind of silent dance of flickering, twinkling bodies.  But as they moved, he realized, they were beginning to take on a shape. The starfields and nebulae were shifting to form what could only be described as a man, albeit not like one that Adam had ever encountered before.  He was a colossus, far larger than his pain-wracked mind could at first comprehend. His body was formed from the blackness of space itself, littered with stars like freckles on skin. Adam, straining his mind’s eye, looked about to find the head of this enormous man.  At first it seemed he was without a face altogether, but as Adam studied him further, he realized that the constellations across the visage formed features- eyes, a nose, a mouth. From the head sprouted massive horns of matter, each a thousand lightyears long.

Adam stared up in wonder.  His pain had been forgotten.

\-----

Back in the little void that had been Adam’s prison, he lay in perfect stillness.  His body had given up in the face of such immense pain, it seemed.

“Pathetic,” said a new voice altogether.  It was a smooth, pleasant voice not unlike Adam’s had been.  The newcomer looked a great deal like him in many ways- tall and lean, with fine handsome features and a head of curls.  But this one, for all the trouble of his birth, was in a far better state than the miserable thing laying in a death-sleep on the ground.  He was gleaming in the darkness, shimmering. He looked down at his graceful hands and muscular forearms, smiling haughtily to himself.

“You’ve been a pleasant host,” he said to Adam as he stepped daintily over the being.  “But I can’t stick around long. Much too much to do.”


	9. Into the Fire

The interior of the templeship was dimly lit and murky with incense smoke.  The smell of the place was acrid, almost foul- it burned Gamora's eyes. She blinked a few times, refusing to let her gaze leave Quill for even a second lest he disappear into the mysterious depths of the ship in search of Adam.

It had been a long and trying journey here.  The Ulas quadrant was a remote and largely barren place, and thus had only one jump point in its entirety.  It had required an intricate series of jumps that had led to dead ends on several occasions. When they had finally reached the quadrant, the task had become locating one relatively small templeship within it.  This arduous endeavor was not made any easier by Quill's increasing distress.

"They could be doing anything to him," he had said in excess of thirty times.  "We  _ have  _ to hurry."

"We're going as fast as we can, Peter," Gamora had assured him, but he had been numb to comfort.  Eventually, she had simply left him to watch out the window, white-knuckled fists gripping the back of the pilot's chair.

In its entirety, the trip had not been quite as long as Rocket had anticipated- about 9 days.  They had been sleepless, turbulent days, which did not bode well. Even with the added strength of Gamora's newly-acquired helpers, she did not know how much of a chance they stood against the Church.  But there was nothing left to do but try.

Now they were standing in a massive, shadowy foyer, crowded together in an uncertain cluster.  Any second, the warriors of the Church would descend upon them, Gamora knew. But for the time being, all was still and quiet.  The air seemed to cling to her skin. The smell of the place was not instantly familiar to her, but she knew from the chill that was lingering on the back of her neck that she had smelled it before.

"What now?" Mantis asked quietly.

Everyone looked to Quill, whose recent behavior had encouraged them to believe he had a plan.  Gamora knew better. It was clear that Quill had not truly expected to make it this far. Now that they were standing in the templeship, he was as uncertain as the rest of them.  He was breathing heavily, his eyes darting around the gloomy room. "We've gotta find someone," he said after a long pause. "Someone who can tell us where Adam is."

"We need to stay together," Gamora said firmly.  "It would be too risky to go anywhere alone."

Quill turned suddenly to Mantis.  "Can you feel anything?"

"Anything..." she responded vaguely.  "What do you mean?"

"Can you sense anyone?  Anywhere in this place?"

She shook her head uneasy, antennae twitching.

"Looks like we're going in blind, then."  He rolled his powerful shoulders and pulled the element gun from its holster.

Gamora was not fond of that plan, but it seemed they had no choice.  This place was layered with protective charms and glamours thickly enough that even Gamora could sense them.  They were plastered on the walls like wallpaper and thick underfoot like a plush carpet. She watched Quill shake he head as though trying to free water from his ears.

" _ Fuck _ ," he said under his breath.

"Stay calm," Mantis said softly, approaching to lay her hands on his shoulders.  "We will find Adam, and bring him home."

Gamora stepped away, drawing a deep breath.  She had faced many a foe far more powerful than herself and never suffered so much as a shred of doubt in her abilities.  But as she stood here in the darkness, her senses cloyed with magic, something was rising in her throat like bitter bile. It didn’t take her long to recognize the emotion, as divorced from it as she had come to be.  It was fear. The darkness, the scents, the muffling magic- all of it was coming together to form a perfect storm of terror, which gripped her heart like a cold claw. She stood for a moment, frozen, trying to tame the sensation even as it rose to a crescendo, a silent scream in her chest.

She knew the smell of this place.  In the far distance, she could hear a bell ring out in a single ghostly toll.  She closed her eyes, fighting the frigid fear as it swelled in her chest. When she opened them, she found that the dimly lit hallway she had been standing in was gone.  In its place was a wasteland- a barren hillside of scorched earth and blasted trees. Above, the sky was a bruised purple, filled with clouds of ash as vast as thunderheads.  As she turned to sweep her eyes over the landscape, she saw that there were fires burning here and there, petering out as they ate up the last of their fuel.

The smell reached her then- a stomach-churching mixture of charred flesh and incense.  Again, the bell tolled, high and distant. Gamora closed her eyes again, and this time when she opened them, she was back in the foyer once more.

“Gam?” Richard was saying quietly.  He had come to stand a pace behind her; she could feel his hand hovering a few inches from her back.  She didn’t respond to him. Instead, she pulled her sword from its sheath and lifted it above her head, bringing it down into the darkness before her with all the strength she could muster.  It was a motion purely of instinct, her body’s attempt to release the adrenaline that was pumping through her veins. She expected her blade to collide with the floor with a crack, anticipating the sweet release the contact would bring.  But instead, she found that her stroke had connected with something. She looked up and found, to her surprise, that she had torn a hole in the darkness itself, leaving a ragged patch in the tapestry of gloom in front of them. Through it, yellow light was pouring.

“What the hell,” Richard said with earnest confusion.

“We’re behind a glamour,” Tana Nile- who was the first of the girls to speak in a long time- said matter-of-factly.  “That’s why she can’t sense anything.”

Gamora looked to Mantis, who moved at once towards the opening.  “She’s right,” the woman exclaimed. “It’s different out there.”

Encouraged, Gamora slashed at the darkness again.  The opening widened, soon enough so that she could step through, into the real foyer beyond.

It was a grand room, filled from ceiling to floor with bright candlelight.  The walls were draped with luxurious fabrics, the floors tiled with silver and gold.  The light, Gamora realized, was emanating from a chandelier hanging over them. She looked behind her and found that, although they were still standing within the shroud she had just escaped, Gamora could see her companions perfectly.  She understood the mechanism of the spell, now. It had been a cage of sorts, keeping the intruders subdued with its assault on the senses so they could be observed by their captors.   


She looked around in search of these captors, but saw no one.  A chill went up her back. She was certain that they were being watched- the sensation of eyes on her made her skin tingle.   


Richard had followed her through the opening, with Quill right behind him.  Both men were observing the interior of the foyer with unease.  


"That was a fragile piece of magic," Tana Nile, who was the next through the shroud, observed quietly.  "Perhaps they are weaker than we assumed?"  


"Don't get your hopes up," Gamora replied.  The rest of the group were filing out of the magical trap as she watched.  Mantis approached her at once.  


"I can feel something out here," she said.  "There are a great deal of people through those doors."  She pointed at the massive double doors at the end of the foyer.    


"Do they know we're here?"  


Mantis shook her head.  "They don't seem to know much of anything."  


Gamora did not know whether to be encouraged by this cryptic remark.  At any rate, she could see no other way to proceed, so she led the way to the doors.  She paused for a moment, laying her hand against the smooth wood. She studied the design emblazoned in gold upon it- a cross whose topmost portion was a narrow loop.  It was a symbol burned into her memory- it was painted on the undersides of the great gunships that the Church sent out to ravage planets. In a moment, she was transported again to the vast scorched field, feeling the sting of sulfur on her skin and the lap of hungry flames at delicate flesh.  


"Are we going in, or what?" Quill asked, having nudged his way through the small crowd to stand beside her.  


She sucked in a deep breath, forcing the invading visions from her head.  She pushed on the door- it swung open easily. Gamora stopped short at the sight before her.  The doorway had let them on to a massive room the likes of which she had never seen. It was easily several hundred feet in length, with ceilings so high that they were lost to darkness.  At the room's distant far end was an altar, high and wide. The altar itself was not occupied, but the room was far from empty. Between the altar and the Guardians were rows upon rows of people, all of them knelt on low benches, their hands folded before them- perfectly uniform, and in the thousands.  None of them looked up at this intrusion, remaining so still and silent that Gamora was encouraged to approach the nearest row, baffled. Every individual was dressed exactly the same, in featureless black robes, hoods shrouding their faces.  


"Don't touch them," Mantis hissed.  Gamora turned to look at her to find that the woman had gone a sickly pale.  Her antennae were laying as flat as they could against her hair. She was reaching out to her companions for comfort- Drax obliged her, taking her under one enormous arm.  


"What is it?" Gamora asked.  "What's wrong with them?"  


"They are prisoners," Mantis replied.  "Mind-slaves."  


Mantis' fright had clearly unsettled the rest.  "What have we got ourselves into, here?" Stellaris said quietly, her voice ripe with indignation.  


Gamora fixed her with a stare.  "I didn't make you come. You all invited yourselves into this mess."  


Before anyone could speak any further, there was the echoing sound of a door opening,  Gamora flew to attention, holding her sword in front of her, as two figures walked onto the altar.  One was completely shrouded in crimson armor, a long black cape flowing behind them. The other was a woman, pale in the candlelight that illuminated the altar.  Although Gamora could barely make out her features at such a distance, she knew that the latter was smiling coldly at them.  


"Guardians of the Galaxy!" She said, her voice booming in the cavernous room.  "We've been expecting you."  


"Where is Adam?" Quill hollered at once.  Gamora turned to him, ready to hold him back if the need be, but Richard had beat her to it.  He had his strong arms wrapped around Quill's chest, and although Quill was visibly straining for release, Richard held him fast.  


"Think," he was saying in a harsh whisper.  "Use your head, Peter."  


The woman on the altar was speaking again.  "You must be the infamous Star-Lord," she said, drawing out the name with unmistakable disdain.  "We have heard a great deal about you."  


"What did you do to him?" Quill demanded.  Gamora could see his eyes blazing as he spoke.  


"We made only some minor improvements.  It's a shame you won't be around to see them."  She raised one hand above her head, palm towards the Guardians, and said, "Cardinals- take care of them.  Bring me the half-breed's head, and for goodness sake, don't let them hurt my Believers."  


At her words, the shadows around the edges of the room seemed to come to life.  Gamora watched as they gave way to figures much like the one standing beside the woman on the altar- little more than towering suits of armor, black voids where their faces ought to be and long, shimmering blades at their sides.  She made a quick count as they emerged, one after another- twenty in all. They were approaching from all sides. Instinctively, the Guardians formed a defensive huddle, backs together and weapons brandished. Gamora caught sight of the girls, standing in a terrified cluster nearby.  They could fight, she knew- she had tested their skills herself. They were young, inexperienced, and not especially adept. But she knew better than anyone that being cornered brought the fight out- with any luck, they could hold their own.

The Cardinal closest to them was speaking.  “Surrender your leader,” he said in a voice like iron gears grinding, “and the rest shall be spared.  Through the Church, you will find salvation.”

Stomach turning in decades-old disgust at these words, Gamora worked up what little saliva her parched mouth could produce and spit at the Cardinal.  He laughed. “Perhaps you need further convincing.”

Two more of the armored creatures charged, their weapons drawn.  They were headed directly for Quill, who seemed to his credit unperturbed.  He aimed a fiery blast at one of the figures, and it struck that massive metal chest with explosive force.  The Cardinal staggered, and in the time it took him to regain his footing, the rest of the Guardians had followed their leader’s example.  Blasters fired bolts of brightness. Metal clashed with metal, showering sparks. Gamora launched herself at the Cardinal who had addressed them.  She swung her sword at a crevice in the plates of his armor- a spot just above his right hip. She struck true, feeling the blade move between the metal plates and drive itself into whatever lay below.  The Cardinal made no sound of pain, which was disconcerting. Instead, he swept one hulking arm at her, sending her careening sideways. She rolled over once and was quick to regain her footing, back on the Cardinal like a hunting dog on a hare.  She swung again, this time her sword clattering uselessly against his pauldron. She dodged another sweeping blow, going low to cut at his legs. Her blade connected with the side of his knee in a blow hard enough to make him buckle. With his upper body in her reach, she slashed mercilessly at his shoulders and head as he attempted to stand upright.  His armor repelled most of her blows, but one landed in the space between his helmet and pauldron. Whatever resided in the armor cried out in pain. Encouraged, Gamora struck again.

The second blow did the trick- the Cardinal’s helmeted head was swept clean off his shoulders.  Gamora did not pause to examine the carnage, but instead took a quick inventory of her team. Rocket and Groot seemed to be holding their own, Groot having lifted a Cardinal clean off the ground to stall while Rocket loaded an appropriate gun.  A few feet from them, Stellaris and Ganymede were defending the fallen Spirit from further attack. Gamora hadn’t time to worry about them- instead, she looked to Quill. He was fighting alongside Richard and Drax, and the three of them were surrounded by a cluster of Cardinals.  Gamora made her way to them at once, launching herself onto the back of the nearest Cardinal. As she straddled his shoulders, she called, “Go for the neck! It’s a weakness in the armor!”

So saying, she drove her blade into the described spot.  She was rewarded with a gurgling snarl from the Cardinal and a gush of dark blood.  She sprung from him as he fell in a heap, landing between Richard and Drax. As she did, Richard aimed a blast at the Cardinal he was locked in battle with, hitting the being squarely in the face.  As this one, too, collapsed, he turned and said, “This is weirdly easy.”

“He is right,” Drax replied as he pulled his short swords from the bleeding neck of another fallen Cardinal.  “This armor design is weak, and their blows are easy to avoid.”

Gamora looked around again.  The Cardinal Groot had been lifting was nowhere to be seen, and it seemed that through a group effort, Stellaris, Ganymede, and Cerise had successfully brought down their attacker.  Spirit was sitting up, bleeding from a gash on her scalp.

There were perhaps 13 Cardinals remaining, and it felt that the Guardians had barely exerted an effort.  Something, she sensed, was amiss here. She looked to the altar again, where the woman was still standing, and a strange notion suddenly occurred to her.  Holding it in her mind, she started towards the altar, sword clutched at her side. Soon she had broken into a stride, as the thought burned in her mind like an ember in a fire-pit.  As she went, she took some notice of the Believers in their silent prayer.  None have them had so much as moved at all the commotion behind him.

She returned her attention to the woman before her, who watched her come at first with some bemusement.  She was alone now, Gamora realized, the Cardinal that had entered with her apparently having gone to join the fray at the entrance.  This seemed to occur to both the woman and Gamora simultaneously. The former seemed to startle back to alertness, as though she had been daydreaming.  Her dark eyes fixed on Gamora and flashed with a sort of understanding. By the time Gamora had reached the steps of the altar and started up, the woman was saying, “Keep your distance, if you know what’s good for you.”

“You know what I am,” Gamora responded, her voice deeply cold.

The woman did not answer at first, her hands coming to her sides as if in search of a weapon to defend herself.

“You know where I come from,” Gamora went on.  “You were there. You oversaw everything. Right?”

“You’re talking about… Zen-Whoberi.”

“I’m shocked you even remember the name.  You still occupying it?”

“That is not your concern,” the woman replied, seeming to remember herself momentarily.  “Whatever happened to your people on Zen-Whoberi, I’m sure it is beyond your understanding.  You must have been only a child at the time.”

“My people?” Gamora echoed.  “It happened to  _ me _ .  I was there when the massacre took place.”

“That is impossible,” the woman replied.  “We left no survivors.”

“You  _ thought _ ,” Gamora said evenly, “you left no survivors.”

Real fear had come into the woman’s pallid face now.  Gamora understood now, what was going on behind them. Her hunch had been correct.  “They aren’t real, are they?” She said. “Your Cardinals. They’re just magic, like that weak glamour you set up in the hallway.  None of this is real.”

The fear flickered briefly to anger, but the woman did not respond.

“What was the point of all the destruction, if this is all a fake?”

“ _ Fake _ is hardly the right word,” the woman replied, visibly attempting to regain her composure.  “It is a preparation. Everything we have done- and everything we are  _ doing _ \- is simply setting the stage for what is to come.”

Gamora made the final few steps up onto the altar, so that she could look the woman in the eye.  “All those people? Are they real?”

“My Believers.  They are our lifeblood.”

“They’re your prisoners, you mean.”

“How dare you,” the woman replied, anger interlacing her fear once more.  “All of our Believers were willing converts-”

“That you lied to and manipulated, just like you tried to do to my people.  But we were too smart. We saw through the tricks.” Gamora raised her sword.  “I get it, now. Anyone who doesn’t convert, you destroy so you can suck up their resources to keep building your lies.”

“They are  _ not  _ lies.  You will see in time.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.”

The candlelight flickered on her blade as she moved it to deliver her killing blow.  It had been a long time in the coming- 30 years, in fact. She had been planning for this day from the first moment that Thanos had taken her tiny hand in his and promised that she would have her revenge.  It would not be sweet or satisfying, she knew, but it would be  _ right _ .

Before she could move any further, however, the woman opened her mouth in a string of words that Gamora did not recognize.  At first she thought it a nonsensical plea for mercy- she had heard plenty of those in her time. But then, the pain started.  First it engulfed her hand, fire on her skin once more. It raced up her arm, over her chest, over her neck and face. She inhaled the pain and it bloomed in her lungs.  It seared her mouth and ears, and finally her eyes. She saw the ends of her long black hair frizzle into blossoms of flame, and then her vision went dark.


	10. Rescue

Quill and Mantis did not witness Gamora's confrontation with the Matriarch, as they had already departed from the scene of the battle.  Mantis had unexpectedly grabbed Quill by the elbow and with surprising force pulled him away from the Cardinal he had been locked in combat with.  He found himself being towed from the melee into a dark, narrow space where the faint glow of Mantis' antennae were the only source of light. He looked around as he eyes adjusted, confused.

They were standing in a shadowy passage that must have been hidden in the darkness of the great hall they had just left.  Mantis was holding a finger to her lips. Quill took the cue and remained quiet as she motioned him along. Eventually, the sounds of the continuing battle behind them faded; the resulting silence was thick like wet wool.

"I can feel Adam," Mantis said.  "He's this way."

Quill felt as though a fist had closed around his heart, squeezing it tight.  "Is he alright?"

"It is hard to say.  His energy signature is very weak."  She was quiet for a moment before whispering, "Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"I thought that I might receive a vision.  Usually when something like this happens, I get a glimpse of what might come to pass.  But this time..."

"You saw nothing."

She nodded, her dark eyes downcast.

"Don't worry too much," Quill said gently.  "I know your visions are unpredictable like that."

As he spoke, he saw her perk up suddenly.  She turned, reaching out with one hand to touch the wall.  "I feel him!" She breathed. "It was very strong for a moment."

Quill chewed the inside of his cheek.  "Is he moving?"

"No, I think he's stationary.  Not far from where we are. But the feelings coming off of him are very chaotic.  I don't know- I've never felt his feelings before."

Quill recalled Adam and Mantis' first meeting- she had been rather taken aback by him, because he seemed immune to her empathetic powers.  "Maybe this is a good thing," he said.

They continued on in silence once more.  This time, Mantis kept her fingertips pressed on the wall to their left.  Quill, feeling helpless, pricked his ears up and waited patiently for Mantis to feel something else.

A light appeared before them- the end of the corridor.  They advanced on it carefully. Quill could see that it let out onto a larger, brighter hallway.  As they reached it, he held out a hand to stop Mantis moving forward, and peered around the corner.  The passage was totally empty. He stepped into the brightness, blinking. It was an unearthly light that filled the hallway and illuminated every detail of its stone walls.  It echoed with the sound of his heavy breathing, but was otherwise silent.

Mantis followed him from the narrow passageway, antennae twitching.  She clapped a hand to her brow suddenly, wincing. " _ Ouch _ ," she said.  "He is very close by- and I think he knows that we are coming."

"Can you tell him something?" Quill asked, struggling for a deep breath.  "Tell him I'm here and I'm going to rescue him."

"I will try."

She closed her eyes, her brow creasing with the effort of reaching out to Adam.  After a moment she opened them again, frowning at Quill.

"I lost him."

"Lost him? What do you mean lost him?"

"His signature disappeared."

Quill did not care to think what this meant- not yet.  He couldn't give up hope yet.

"Which direction?" He said, forcing his voice to remain even.

Mantis pointed down the hallway.  "Off to the left down there. That was the last place I felt him."

Quill broke into a run, his eyes scanning the rocky walls for any sign of a entryway.  At last they landed upon a plain brown door, unassuming among all the grandeur of this loathsome place.  He ran to it, grasping the handle. If the door had been locked, it didn't matter- Quill all but tore it off its hinges.  As he fell into the room beyond, Mantis close behind him, he was first met with a strange smell like ozone and burning flowers.  He wrinkled his nose, looking around. Otherwise it seemed a relatively normal bedroom, albeit one with dozens of weapons hung on the walls and a lushly decorated bed that had clearly never been slept in. But the decor was unimportant.  Quill's eyes fell to the middle of the room, where a figure was laying on the floor, dressed in a familiar linen robe but otherwise unrecognizable.

"Adam," Quill cried out, dropping to his knees beside the figure.  "Adam, baby!" He looked Adam over, seeing that his gold skin had grown dull and grey.  His eyes were closed, sunken in their sockets. His hair lay in damp ringlets on his brow.  With enormous care, Quill reached out and stroked his cheek- he was cool, but not cold.

Mantis joined him, reaching out at once to place her hands on Adam.  "He isn't dead," she said at once. "But he is very close."

"What did they do to you?" Quill breathed as he gathered Adam into his arms.  "I swear to god, I'll kill them." He buried his face in the being's hair, letting his tears soak into the curls.  He felt Mantis' gentle hand on him, petting his shoulders and back. "We shouldn't stay here," she said eventually.  "The others will be waiting."

He knew as well as she did that they had no idea what state the rest were in.  This uncertainty was enough to spur Quill into motion. He got unsteadily to his feet, keeping Adam close to his chest.  The being scarcely weighed a thing. He lolled about like a rag-doll in Quill's arms.

When they had reached the door of the room, Quill paused.  He realized that he had no idea how he was going to proceed with escaping the templeship and getting Adam to safety.  It would be nearly impossible to sneak out, not when they had already attracted so much attention- and that was assuming that the Guardians had been victorious in their battle against the Cardinals.

"Mantis, can you tell what's going on?" He asked as they made their way back to the entrance of the passage that had brought them here.

She focused her efforts in silence a moment, the corners of her mouth turned down.  Suddenly she opened her eyes and said, "We should hurry back."

"What's happening?"

"Someone is injured."

Quill's heart sank.  With Adam barely clinging to life as he was, the last thing they needed was another Guardian down.

They moved swiftly down the corridor.  Quill could hear his heart pounding away in his ears, and beyond that, the loudest thing seemed to be Adam's silence.  The begin had not so much as twitched since Quill had lifted him. His eyelids were waxy and his lips parched. Quill wanted nothing more than to give him a sip of water- anything to stir him.

The words  _ I can't lose him _ had begun to beat a steady tattoo in Quill's brain- an internal chant meant to keep the worst at bay.  “Stay with us, Adam,” he whispered eventually. “Stay with me.”

They reached the mouth of the corridor and paused, listening in silence.  The sounds of battle had all ceased, which he supposed didn’t bode well. Mantis peeked around the corner, visibly tense.  After a moment of surveying, she motioned for Peter. He stepped out into the open, looking around as well. The floor of the room was littered with the corpses of the Cardinals, now nothing more than heaps of steaming armor like the shed skins of some bizarre insect.  Quill scanned among the fallen for any of his own comrades, his heart in his throat. But he saw no sign of them. 

In confusion, he looked up to find Mantis beckoning to him.  She pointed, and as his eyes fell where she indicated, he discovered that all of the Guardians- as well as Gamora’s odd little bunch of girls- had gathered at the foot of the altar.  The woman who had addressed them was gone as well, leaving Quill to wonder why his companions were bothering to linger.

“Hurry,” Mantis said suddenly, and the urgency in her voice startled Quill.  Clutching Adam tightly, he trotted down the long aisle leading to the altar, Mantis a few paces behind.  As they reached the gathering of their friends, Drax turned to look at Quill. Their eyes met, and Drax gave an almost-imperceptible shake of his head.  Then he was coming forward, arms extended. Quill stared at him a moment, confused, before realizing that Drax meant to take Adam from him. Quill let him, and when he had assured that Drax had a good grasp of the comatose being, moved in among the crowd.

At its center, Richard was kneeling, his back to the rest.  In front of him, almost unrecognizable for the burns that covered most of her body, was Gamora.  Quill could not help the soft cry that escaped him. Immediately he had knelt beside Richard, clasping the man’s shoulders.

“What happened?” He asked, unable to tear his eyes from the scorched body of his friend.  “Is she-”

“She went after that woman alone,” one of Gamora’s girls said.  Quill did not yet know their names. “We didn’t even notice. We were too busy fighting.”

“She’s not dead,” another girl said.  “She’s breathing.”

“We need to move,” Quill said, more to himself than the others.  “We have to get them both to a hospital.”

“Both?” Richard echoed faintly.  His face was starkly white and his eyes strangely hollow.  “You found Adam?”

“Yeah, and he’s in bad shape.  Come on, let’s get her up. We need to go.”

“Peter, it’s a nine-day journey back to civilization.”

This gave Quill pause.  He had neglected to take this fact into consideration in regards to Adam’s condition.

“There’s got to be a quicker way,” he muttered.  “There’s no way there’s only one jump point here.”

“How do you propose we find another?” Richard asked.

“I- I don’t know.  Let’s get back to the ship, at least.  We have to try.”

Richard didn’t seem to have any will to argue further.  He leaned in to gather Gamora into his arms. Her hair had been completely burned off, and the skin of her face and neck was blistered horrifically.  The sight was stomach-turning. Quill staggered to his feet, turning his eyes away at last. He looked to Drax.

“Can you carry him?” He asked.  “I think I’m going to faint.”

“Of course,” Drax replied.  Mantis came to slide an arm around Quill’s chest, offering him some support.  He leaned gratefully into her as the group started back down the aisle towards the entrance.  

_ Aurora  _ was docked in a shadowed place at the end of the long courtyard that preceded the templeship’s entrance.  As they went, time seemed to move in slow-motion. Quill looked around at the bubble of artificial atmosphere that surrounded the templeship, iridescent against the blackness of space beyond.  The only light out here came from rows of high lampposts that gave off an eerie copper glow. The effect was profoundly disturbing to his already unsettled mind. As they reached  _ Aurora’s  _ boarding ramp, he found himself weeping.  Hot tears coursed down his face and neck, wetting the collar of his shirt.

Aboard, he headed directly for the cockpit.  He stood for a moment staring at the controls, frowning deeply.

“What are you thinking?”

Quill turned to find that Rocket had joined him, climbing onto the back of the pilot’s seat.

“I don’t know,” Quill replied truthfully.  “Don’t you have any gadgets or anything that can get us out of here faster?”

Rocket looked down.  “Not this time. And I don’t think Adam and Gamora’s condition allows me much time for inventing.”

“No,” Quill replied, mopping his wet face with his sleeve.

“I do have bombs,” Rocket said.  “Lots of bombs.”

“What good are those going to do us?”

“I can blow this piece of shit church-ship to smithereens.”

It was a satisfying thought.  “Just wait until we’re clear.”

“Of course I will, dumbass.”

Rocket dropped from the seat, landing on all fours, and bounded off into the depths of the ship.  Quill turned back to the controls, seating himself in the pilot’s chair and letting out a deep, miserable breath.

“Why this?” He asked quietly.  “Why did you give him to me if you were just gonna take him away?  Jesus Christ,  _ why? _ ”

Half-blinded by tears, he started the ship’s engine and steered them away from the templeship.  His breath hitched painfully.

Then, in a moment of desperation, he rose from the chair and reached up to the control console above him.  There were a lot of different buttons there, some of which he had never touched for lack of knowing what they did.   _ One of them _ , he reasoned,  _ has to show us the way out _ .

There was a little switch at the very end of the panel, unlabeled.  He hesitated a moment before flipping it.

A blue light flooded the cockpit, making him start.  He returned to his seat, glancing around in an attempt to figure out what sort of affect the switch had had.  Nothing looked any different- at least, not at first. But as he sat, he realized that, on the ship’s windshield, the blue light was collecting into a sort of holographic image.  A face, he realized as the image became more and more solidified- a woman’s face.

He stared in a mixture of shock and admiration; it was a supremely detailed hologram, the likes of which he had not encountered before.

She was staring at him, he realized, her eyes bright and piercing.

“Hello,” she said in a voice that echoed from every nook and cranny of the cockpit- from the entire ship, it seemed.  “I am your Surveillance, Homeostasis, and Intuitive Piloting unit. What should I call you?”

“Uh, Peter,” he replied, flabbergasted.

“Very well,  _ Uh, Peter _ .  Shall I give you a list of the services I can provide?”

“Can you detect jump points?”

“Of course!” The hologram of the woman’s face smiled cheerfully at him.  “Should I prioritize by vicinity or destination?”

“Vicinity.  Please.”

“Very well.”  She was quiet for a moment, closing her eyes as though in deep thought.  At last she said, “I have detected two jump points within 3 clicks. Shall I direct us to the nearest?”

“Yes.  Please!”

“I have set our course.  The selected jump point has a destination of  _ Pirori Quadrent _ , coordinates nineteen, thirty-five, twenty-one-”

“Miss, uh…” He floundered a moment, trying to remember what she had called herself.   _ Surveillance.  Homeostasis. Intuitive Piloting _ .  “Miss SHIP?”

“Yes, Uh, Peter?”

“ _ Thank you. _ ”


	11. Past, Present, and Future

For a long time, Adam stood in perfect silence, staring up at the celestial being towering over him.  It was impossible to say if the being was aware of his presence- he was minuscule in comparison, insectoid at the feet of this epic creature.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Hello!"

The head from which the great dark antlers rose turned immediately downwards, its movements almost too vast to comprehend.  Having got the being's attention, Adam went on, "Can you tell me where I am?"

He didn't know if the being was capable of speech- the concept of language was probably below its dignity.  So it was somewhat of a surprise when, in a voice that seemed to boom from the depths of the void, the being responded, "Adam Warlock."

This gave Adam pause.  He recalled that the Matriarch had called him Warlock, too- but she had clearly meant it as an insult.  He raised an eyebrow.

"Was that my name?" He asked.  "In my other life?"

"It is still your name."

"Who are you, and what do you want from me?"

"Search your memories, Warlock.  This is not our first meeting."

At this, Adam felt a flare of annoyance in his chest.  He planted his hands on his hips and said, "I have grown tired of that sentiment.  I recall nothing of my previous life, and no matter how many people insist that I should remember them, I don't.  Kindly tell me who you are."

He wasn't sure where the courage to speak to such an immense and obviously powerful being in this manner had arisen from, but it seemed to do the trick.

"My name is Eternity," the being said.  "And I am that which I am named."

"Eternity?" Adam echoed.  "The sum of all things?"

"Precisely."

Adam got the impression that the creature bent, looking down at Adam the way one might lean to examine an interesting shell on the beach.  Adam did not recognize the massive hand reaching for him until it was too late. He was dwarfed by the immense appendage, and effortlessly gathered into the palm.  He did not struggle, simply clung in a fright as he was lifted closer to the being's face.

"Warlock, you are much the same as you always were.  I see the stubbornness and pride that marked your former life still in you."

Adam, arms clasped over his head, said, "Oh, for goodness sake-- I am not my former self.  I hate to be a disappointment, but really. What is it you want from me?"

"You have a destiny to fulfill."

Adam straightened up, balancing carefully on the vast hand supporting him.  It was a skinless, boneless hand made up solely of the dark matter of space.  Stars twinkled and nebulae swirled under him. "What sort of a destiny?"

"It will be revealed to you in good time."

"These fool answers," Adam muttered.  "Everyone speaking to me in riddles."

"Come."

Eternity turned his massive form around and began to move, taking strides so vast that each step must have covered light-years.  The motion was instantly sickening to Adam, who groaned. He wasn't certain where Eternity was taking him, but he saw the black void that had surrounded them begin to lighten, turning the gray of early dawn.

“Where are we going?” Adam demanded, getting unsteadily onto his hands and knees.  He looked down at his own body for the first time since his arrival here and realized that he was quite naked.  He yelped, looking around in desperation for something to cover himself.

Eternity, seeming to sense his distress, said, “No need for modesty, Warlock.  Here your soul is laid bare, and your body is of little consequence.”

“What did become of my body, then?” Adam asked, recalling his ordeal in the Matriarch’s makeshift prison.

“I do not know.”

“How useful.”  Adam sat, hugging his knees to his chest to set himself up for a pout.  “You never answered me. Where are we going?”

“All will be made clear soon.”

“Just answer me, damn you!”

Eternity sighed audibly.  “I am transporting you to the Soul Realm.  There, you will meet several people who will help to elucidate the path your destiny will lead you on.”

“And if I refuse such a path?”

At this, Eternity gave an immense, rumbling laugh.  “You have tried to escape it before. But the higher powers have decreed your fate, and so it shall come to pass.”

“I have no say whatsoever?”

“In the end, no.”

Adam frowned, turning to observe their surroundings once more.  He realized that there was blue sky above them, and when he made his way very cautiously to the edge of Eternity’s hand, he found that far below them- miles below, it would seem- was a landscape of green and white.

“The Soul Realm,” he said to himself, watching a river cut its sparkling way through a patchwork of fields and forests.  “It is beautiful.”

“Those souls who have earned a place here deserve an eternity of comfort and beauty, no?”  Eternity asked.

“Not all souls come here?”

“No.”

Eternity was slowing his strides now.  As he went, he seemed to be shrinking. Instead of being light-years or even miles tall, he was now the height of a large building- and still growing smaller.  Adam rose to his feet, clinging to Eternity’s fingers. “Are you going to put me down soon?”

“You are a pest, Adam Warlock.”  That being said, Eternity halted his motion altogether, causing Adam to collide clumsily with his forefinger.  Then, he was bending once more- this time to return Adam to solid ground. Adam looked around him as he landed on a patch of soft green grass.  He was standing at the center of a ring of stone columns, which rose from the grassy hillside Eternity was towering over. Beyond the ring, Adam could see fields of long coppery grass that rippled in the wind.  In the far distance, craggy purple mountains rose heavenward. It was a charming place, he decided, and a huge improvement over his last abode. The cloying stink of incense was gone from his nose, replaced with the scent of fresh air and the tang of plantlife.

“Where are these people, then?” He asked, turning to look at Eternity once more.  Now the being was no larger than a very tall man, although in composition his body had not changed.  The starry figure seemed out of place among this picturesque landscape.

“Before I introduce you to the first,” he was saying, “I must warn you: none of these women died peaceful deaths.  What they relate to you, you may find difficult to hear. But I have selected them carefully, as each holds a key to your fate.  For your own sake, be gracious to them.”

Adam sniffed a bit, but said nothing else.

“Warlock, the first of these souls I have selected is a woman named Sui-San.  You may not remember her, but she remembers you.”

Adam did not have a chance to consider if this name sounded familiar to him, because at that moment, the center of the ring of columns came alive with a crackle of electricity and a wisp of greenish smoke.  The smoke duly parted, revealing a woman of impressive stature and long, red hair. She was dressed in a knee-length white dress cinched at the waist with a leather belt, and in one hand she held a long, silver-tipped spear.  She was a handsome woman. Her copper eyes found him at once.

“There you are, you wee golden brat,” she said in a voice deep and even.  “It has been a long time!”

Adam, of course, did not need any further hints at her identity.  She was the mother of Eros, of course- the features of the Titan people were unique.  He gave a polite bow and said, “Your majesty.”

“As polite as always,” she said approvingly.  “This large star-man called me here from my place of rest so that I could refresh your memory, you know.  He thought that I would be the perfect soul to recollect to you what happened.”

Adam clasped his hands together in front of him, eager for her to continue.

“My sons were very excited to welcome you to our home, when you first came,” Sui-San said.  “There was a promise that one of them would wed you, and the Sovereign people are famously agreeable lovers.  I was excited in my own way. I thought that you would pick my beautiful Eros, my light and joy, of course. I would have magnificent grandchildren!” She laughed.  “But that was not to be. You fell in love with my older son. And that was where the trouble began.”

“Your older son,” Adam asked.  “Thanos, you mean?”

“That blight on my life,” Sui-San answered, her eyes growing hard and cold.  “I don’t blame you, of course, my dear. I don’t know what a beautiful thing like you ever saw in that boy, but the heart wants what it wants.  And who could blame you for dying?”

Adam swallowed.

“Thanos was always an odd child.  Sitting in the graveyards and talking to the dead.  Collecting the skulls of the animals we slaughtered.  Taking a certain joy in watching funeral processions. But losing you- that was what made him mad.  He was inconsolable for days, and when he finally emerged from his mourning, he was different. He grew angry.  Violent.” Here she paused for a long moment, studying Adam’s face. “We had no way of predicting what he was planning.  He was secretive. And when he made his attack on us- his own people- it was calculated for maximum devastation. He reduced us from a thriving civilization in the thousands to a scant two dozen.  And of course, he would have killed us all. But his brother had left already, off to start his own family, and his father was too strong for him. I was the only one of his family that he succeeded in killing.”

They stood for a while in somber silence.  At last Adam asked, “And after that?”

“I wish I could say for certain,” Sui-San replied.  “But I was dead and gone to Paradise. It was not my concern.”

Seeing that she had nothing else to say, Adam bowed again and said, “Thank you.”

“If you see my boy out there, wherever he may be,” the woman said, pointing a finger at Adam, “you tell him that his mother says hello.”

With that, another crackle of lightning ushered in the next soul.  This woman left standing in Sui-San’s place seemed at first familiar- the long black hair, the green skin- but Adam realized that the familiarity was only in that she resembled Gamora.  A Zen-Whoberian.

“Hello,” he said politely.

“You are Adam Warlock?” She asked.

“I am.”

“My name is Kra Kisit.  I was called upon to tell you of the present.”

“The present?” Adam echoed.

“Yes.  I was the first of my people murdered by the Church.”

Adam nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“We did not realize what was happening to us, at first.  We thought that the Church had given up and were leaving us in peace.  We had rejected them, you see. They arrived on our planet asking us to convert to their worship.  They promised us salvation, but when we asked them what we were being saved from, they could give us no real answer.  And my people loved our gods, you see. We did not want them replaced by the images the Church offered.”

“Images of what?” Adam asked, although part of him already knew the answer.

“A terrible pale-skinned man.  A white-haired wraith. They proclaimed that he would save us all, if we devoted ourselves to him.  We refused.”

She closed her dark eyes and dropped her chin to her chest.

“The first thing I remember was heat.  They deployed to our planet massive ships that sprayed fire on the forests and the cities.  They burned us faster than we could run. I was blessed with a quick death, but as more and more of my people joined me here in the afterlife, they told me of the terrible fates they suffered.  They suffocated on smoke or were crushed in the rubble of burning buildings.” There was a catch in her voice, as though speaking of these things caused her physical pain. “None were spared. Men, women, children- all were ruthlessly wiped out.  A whole civilization was lost in a matter of days.”

“One survived,” Adam said, unsure of whether or not this would be a comfort to the woman.  “She’s an adult now.”

Kra Kisit smiled a little.  “How did she ever escape?”

Adam paused.  “She was rescued.”  Then, he was turning his attention to Eternity.  “Why disturb her rest to make her speak to me of these atrocities?”  He asked. “I knew already of the evils the Church had committed.”

“They are still committing them,” Eternity answered simply.  His reply drew a breathless exclamation of horror from Kra Kisit.

“No one has put a stop to them?” She breathed.  “You must- they cannot commit the atrocities my people faced anywhere else.  They cannot!”

Adam reached out at once to comfort her- she grasped at his hands, and he was surprised to find that a soul could grip him and hold him tight.  “You must stop them,” she said, her eyes shining with tears. “For the sake of those who have already been their victims.”

“I will,” Adam answered.  “I swear it.”

She released him and, with one last tearful look at him, was gone.

“You understand why I called her here now,” Eternity said.  “It is your destiny, to stop the Church.”

Adam scowled at him.  “Well, why can’t you do something?  Why is it my responsibility alone?”

“I have no power over them.  I have sworn a vow of non-interference in the lives of my denizens.”

“What nonsense!  Surely you can interfere when the lives of millions of people are in question!”

Eternity looked strangely sad.  “That is not my duty. It is yours.”

Adam huffed.  “Am I dismissed, then, now that you have illustrated my purpose?”

“Patience.  There is one more you must meet.”

“What more is there to say?”

“Defeating the Church is only a part of your fate, Warlock.  Wouldn’t you like to know the rest?”

“Is it as terrible as what I have heard so far?”

“Not at all.”

Adam let out a long sigh.  He wasn’t entirely certain that he wanted to know anything further about his destiny today, positive or not.  But before he could voice this, the center of the circle lit up once more. This time, as the smoke parted, he was met with a rather slight woman with waist-length hair and a round, attractive face.  She was young, perhaps 30, with dazzling green eyes and freckles.

“Hi there,” she said, giving him a little curtsy.  She was wearing a long white dress that brushed in the grass, and as she stepped forward to greet him, he saw that she was barefoot.

“Hello,” Adam said, taken aback by her smile and her loveliness.

“You must be Adam.  I been hearing so much about you.”  Her voice had a pleasant lilt, a certain intonation that immediately made his chest grow tight.

“Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?” He asked.

“My name is Meredith,” she answered, reaching out to take his hand and give it a gentle shake.  “Meredith Quill. I think you know my baby boy.”

“I do,” Adam answered at once.  “Of course. You’re Peter’s mother.”

“That I am.  How is my angel?”

Adam blinked a few times, looking into the woman’s earnest face.  “I’m afraid that at the moment, he’s probably worried sick about me.  I was taken away from him quite abruptly, you see.”

She made a sympathetic noise, but said quickly, “You’ll be back with him real soon, I promise.”

“Has Eternity showed you the future, then?”

“You mean that tall drink of water over there?  He showed me a little.”

Adam wanted to reach out and take her hand, eager to hear everything she could tell him.

“He told me that nothing is set in stone, so to speak,” Meredith said.  “Everything I saw was only a possibility. But if you ask me, it was a best case scenario.  I don’t want to give too much away, now, because I think these sort of things should be a surprise.  But I will tell you this: when Peter asks you, you say yes, alright?”

“When he asks me what?”

“Now, I’m not gonna tell you that.  I want to let Petey get to it on his own, without you knowin’ about it.  That just ain’t fair.” She gave him a cheeky smile. Then she said, “I don’t know much about alien biology, or how different it is from ours, but I’d say you’re really in for it, sweetheart.  Now may be the only time I get to wish you luck, so come here.” To his surprise, she reached up and pulled him into an embrace. She stroked his hair and said, “Five!”

“Five what?”

“You’ll see!  And I’m not saying anything else.  I want it all to be a surprise. Now, you’d better get going so you can get your tail back to Peter.  You two have a lot to talk about.”

She released him, but before she turned to go, she suddenly seemed to grow very serious.  “You be good to him, alright, sweetie? He’s been through enough pain in his life already, and he loves you with all his heart.  You got it?”

“Yes,” Adam replied quietly.  “It was a delight to meet you, Meredith.”

“You too, honey.  I don’t think this is the last we’ll be seeing of each other.  Tell my baby I love him, okay?”

“Of course.”

He watched her go, disappearing in the same wisp of smoke that had delivered her here.  It was with tears in his eyes that he turned to look at Eternity.

“May I go home, now?” He asked.  “Please?”

Eternity, with a certain somber sympathy in his face, said, “Yes.”

He raised a hand, and just as quickly as he had appeared to Adam, he was gone.  The Soul Realm, too, was gone, leaving him in blackness once more.


	12. Recuperation

Even with the aid of Peter’s newly-discovered navigation system, the trip back to civilization took longer than Richard would have liked.   He was anxious, of course, on edge.  He had hardly moved from Gamora's side since they had left the templeship.  His mouth was parched, his eyes red and itchy. He watched the almost imperceptible rise and fall of Gamora's chest as she laid unconscious.  She hadn't stirred at all, which he supposed was a blessing. A huge percent of her body was covered with blistering burns. Her hair and much of her clothing had been scorched off.

"You would be wise to get some rest," Drax had said to him early in the trip.  "There isn't much we can do for her."

Richard had ignored him, knowing that sleep would be impossible while he was left wondering if Gamora could recover from such grievous injuries.  If she survived, there was a chance she could be rendered blind, unable to continue her life with the Guardians. Richard did not care to think of what may become of her if that were the case; in her eyes, that was a fate worse than death.

Eventually, Richard looked up from his somber meditations to find that Quill had joined him, standing at Gamora's bedside with his hands shoved in his pockets.  "How is she?" He murmured.

"Hanging in there.  I guess we won't know the extent of the injuries 'til we get to a hospital."  He let out an enormous sigh. "What about Adam?"

"Unresponsive.  It's weird-- I can't see any injuries.  He's completely untouched. But nothing we try wakes him."

"Where are we headed?"

"Back to Sovereign," Quill replied.  "I think Adam's dad can help her, too.  It's faster than going all the way back to Xandar, at any rate."

Richard chewed his lip.  Before he could respond, however, Quill went on, "I guess it's good luck that I found that button when I did.  Or maybe it was divine intervention. Who knows how long it might have taken us to get back otherwise."

Richard looked up, his eyes moving restlessly over the ceiling of the ship.  He didn't think he had ever been so grateful to an inanimate object.

There was a noise from Gamora then- a sort of dry wheeze that made both men start and turn to her at once.

"Green Bean," Richard said.  "Can you hear me? Don't try to move."

Gamora didn't respond, save the faint twitching of her seared eyelids.  Richard leaned in close to her, the stench of burnt hair filling his nose.  "Hang in there. We're taking you to get help." He longed to reach out and grasp her hand, but those were burned too.

Eventually, Quill wandered off- undoubtedly to check on Adam once more.  By himself again, Richard wrapped his arms around himself and sat uncomfortably hunched.

He passed several hours like this.  In that time, Gamora stirred twice more, but she only groaned quietly or twitched her fingers.  Richard assumed that her enhanced biology was keeping her unconscious to avoid the brunt of the pain she was certainly in.

"That was a stupid move," he said at last.  "You had no idea what she was capable of. That's just like you."  He heaved another sigh. "What are you going to do if this takes you out of the game?"

There was the telltale bump of a drop from warp speed.  Richard got to his feet at once, making his way from Gamora's bunk to the cockpit.  Outside the ship, Sovereign was looming. The dusty golden planet was a very welcome sight.

Peter was getting to his feet, saying, "You're a miracle worker, Miss Ship."

A woman's voice above Richard answered cheerily, "Just doing my job, Peter."

Richard looked to Peter.  "Made a new friend, have you?"

"She's great," Quill answered as he brushed by Richard.  "I've got to worry about Adam, but Drax can help you move Gamora."

Richard looked anxiously over his shoulder at the open door of Gamora's bunk.  He had been dreading this moment-- moving Gamora might mean upsetting her extensive injuries further.  But Drax had the clever idea of transporting her between them in a blanket-hammock of sorts. When the ship had landed, it was like this that they made their way down the boarding ramp and onto the scorching streets of the Sovereign Capital.  Quill had landed them as close as they could get to the home of the High Evolutionary, where Gamora and Adam would presumably be healed.

The small, tired band made their way through the grand front doors and into the blessedly cool foyer.  Richard took a moment to look over the rest of the Guardians- they were all dusty and drowsy, but seemed no worse for the wear.  The only other who had an injury worth noting was one of the girls Gamora had brought with her- Spirit, he believed she was called.  But she was up and walking, and any complaints she may have had seemed to have been quieted by the state Gamora was currently in.

“Do you have homes to go back to?” Richard asked them.  “Families?”

Collectively, the girls shook their heads.  He sighed.

“Don’t worry about them,” Mantis chimed in.  “They are more than welcome to stay with us for now.”

By now, the High Evolutionary had been summoned and was striding into the room, looking the Guardians over.  His eyes lit upon Adam, and his metallic face creased vaguely with worry. “What happened?” He asked.

“The Church had him, alright,” Quill responded.  “They were torturing him or something. He was like this when we found him.”

The High Evolutionary looked to Gamora now.  “And her?”

“She tried to go off on her own,” Richard replied.  “It was magic that did this to her.”

“Bring them both back to the laboratory at once,” the man commanded.  “I will assess them more thoroughly there.”

The Guardians obeyed.  Once they had laid their two unconscious members each on a cold metal slab, the High Evolutionary motioned for them to step back.  Richard was loathe to leave Gamora’s side, but he knew that if the High Evolutionary was to help her, he needed space.

He found comfort in Quill, who was standing a few paces from where Adam was laid, looking helpless and forlorn.  Richard wrapped an arm around the man’s big chest, and was pulled immediately into a tight embrace.

“I never should have taken my eyes off him,” Quill whispered into Richard’s shoulder.  “None of this would have happened.”

“Don’t talk like that.  You know this wasn’t anyone’s fault but the Church’s.”

At this, Richard felt Quill tense.  He stepped back, looking directly into the man’s face.  He looked somber, older. Fear and anger had aged him in a matter of hours, it seemed.  “She may think she got away,” he said. “But we’ll find her. She’s gonna know first hand what Hell is.”

 

The first thing that Gamora became aware of was the tang of antiseptic.  She lay for a long time in perfect stillness, attempting to ascertain where exactly she was before she tried to move.  She found that she couldn’t remember-- she couldn’t remember anything. She had no idea where she was, or how she had come to be there.  Her mind was infuriatingly blank.

She sucked in a breath and immediately gave a shudder of pain.  Even this slight movement had awakened a fiery agony in her chest and back.   _ What had happened to her? _

“Don’t try to move,” a voice from somewhere above her said.  She couldn’t be entirely certain, but she thought it sounded familiar.  It was a man’s voice, deep and rather melancholy. She wracked her brain for any clue as to the owner of this voice, but if the knowledge was there, it was being stubbornly kept from her.

“Your wounds are extensive,” the voice went on.  “You suffered second- and third-degree burns on almost 40 percent of your body.  I was quite afraid that you weren’t going to pull through. But you’re a fighter, it seems.”

Gamora felt the muscles in her forearms tighten.  Those words were achingly familiar, she realized. She had heard them before almost exactly, albeit many years prior.

She wanted to speak, to ask if the owner of the voice was who she thought.  But when she worked her jaw, it sent crackles of electric pain straight down her spine and she was quickly rendered speechless.

“Now, now,” the voice said.  “Keep still, or you’ll never heal properly.  I only woke you to check that you had no neurological damage from the induced coma you have been in.”

She swallowed, and realized that there was something lodged in her throat.  Her first instinct was to cough, but she suppressed the urge to spare herself the pain it would have aroused.

“I know it is impossible for you to speak, but perhaps you can nod your head.  Do you understand what I am saying?”

With as little motion as possible, she nodded her head.

“Do you have any recollection of what happened to you?”

This time, she shook her head.  Try as she might, she could not conjure up a single detail of what events had transpired to land her in this situation.

There was a sigh.  “I hope I haven’t destroyed too many of your memories.”

Before Gamora had a chance to react to this statement, she was unconscious again.

 

The next time she awakened, a bright light was streaming directly into her eyes, which made her flinch and shrink away.  After a moment she realized that it had not hurt to move, and so-- very gingerly-- opened her eyes and looked around.

At first, the room was too bright for her to make out much of anything. Then, as her eyes adjusted, she realized the next problem: her vision was completely clouded over.  It was as though her surroundings were behind a wall of white mist, which prevented her from making out all but the most obvious of details. She could see, first and foremost, her own body in front of her.  Her legs were lost under a white blanket, and her upper body was almost entirely swathed in bandage. She lifted her hands, finding them little more than blunt bundles of fabric. 

Looking beyond her own form, she tried to discern what she could about the room around her.  To her dismay, she found that it was largely featureless. Other than the rectangular shape of the bed she was laying in, there was little else to hint at her location.

“You’re awake.”

She started, turning sharply enough that she smarted.  In her confusion over her whereabouts, she had completely overlooked the figure standing next to her bed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Richard?”

“Yep, it’s me.  I’m gonna venture a guess and say you can’t see me?”

“I can-- but only a little.”

“The High Evolutionary was afraid of that.  It was hard to tell how much damage had been done to your eyes while you were out.”

“What- what happened?”

Richard heaved a sigh, and Gamora watched the rough shape of him move to sit heavily on the bed beside her.  “We went after the Church trying to get Adam back. Everything was going great until you decided to go after that woman on your own.”

Gamora considered his words.  They jogged her memory slightly; she remembered arriving on the templeship, and a brief struggle with the Cardinals.  But everything after that was blank, as though someone had gone through and erased certain memories from her mind.

“What about Adam?” She asked.  “Did you find him?”

“Peter and Mantis did.  He was in bad shape. We brought you both back here together.  He still hasn’t woken up.”

Gamora exhaled.  “How’s Peter?”

“Not so hot.  He hasn’t eaten in days, and we can’t get him to leave Adam’s side.”

“Can I see them?”

“I don’t know if it’s wise for you to be up and about just yet…”

Gamora was already getting to her feet.  The floor was cold metal. “Where are we?” She asked.

“The High Evolutionary’s place.  Not the coziest of abodes, but we could do worse.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Almost two weeks.”

Sighing again, she motioned for Richard to extend his arm.  When he did, she latched onto it and said, “Bring me to Peter.  I need to see how he’s doing.”

Richard did not argue any further with her.  He guided her as she limped along, out of the small featureless room she had apparently been recovering in and into a hallway.  She could tell just as little about this passage as she had about the room, but that didn’t matter. She had to see Quill.

Eventually, they reached another passage.  This led onto a larger room, which as far as she could tell was empty save two blurry shapes at the center.  The first was recognizable as Quill from smell alone-- his already pungent Titan pheromones had been enhanced by several days of not bathing.  The other shape, which she had at first assumed to be Adam, quickly proved to be unrecognizable, simply a mass of dully flashing metal.

“Peter,” Gamora said.  She saw the man start and turn.

“Gam!” He exclaimed, rising to his full height.  “You’re awake!”

He came in close, arms extended as though to embrace her, then seemed to think better of it.  “How are you feeling?” He asked.

“Just fine.  How’s Adam?”

Quill turned away a moment, clearly looking ruefully at the metallic mass behind them.  “He’s in there,” the man said in a strange, distant voice. “Healing. But we don’t know how long it’ll be.”

“But he’s going to be alright?”

“So his father says.”

Gamora reached out and clumsily grasped Quill’s shoulder, hoping to provide some comfort.  She heard him sniffle.

“You need to get some rest,” she said to him.  “Richard says that you aren’t eating.”

“Or sleeping,” Richard piped up.

“Go take a nap.  We’ll stay with Adam.”

Quill hesitated.  “What if he wakes up while I’m not here?”

“We’ll come and get you.   _ Go. _ ”

She watched the shape of Quill make his slow and reluctant way from the side of the unknown device out of the room.

“That was nice of you,” Richard said to Gamora, “but you should really be resting yourself.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she said, feeling her way over to take Quill’s place at Adam’s side.  The device “What is this thing, anyway?”

“I’m not really sure.  It looks like a cocoon to me.”

Gamora found a low seat and settled herself carefully upon it.  She rested one hand on the unknown device, finding the metal warm and smooth.  She discovered, upon closer examination, that she could make out the vague shape of her own reflection in its side.  She quickly turned her eyes away.


	13. The Return

Quill's sleep was restless, and his dreams feverish and unhappy.  It was the first time he had gone to bed in what felt like days; most of his sleep since their arrival at the High Evolutionary's compound had been beside Adam's cocoon, head resting on the chilly metal and listening to the whir and hum of the unfathomable machinery within.  He was almost wanting for that sound as he lay in the still silence of Adam's bedroom. He had come here thinking that he might take comfort in the being's lingering smell, or the presence of his worldly possessions. But instead, he spent his time laying between spells of sleep in shivering misery.   


At last, after awakening from a dream of darkness and acrid burning smells, he rose from the bed and straightened his clothes.  There was a chilly sweat on his neck and back.   


It was dark beyond the bedroom windows, stars twinkling in the crisp desert sky outside.  Quill moved closer, resting his brow on the cool glass. The same thoughts that had been racing back and forth through his mind for days were nagging.  The High Evolutionary had said that Adam might awaken from his healing slumber different: with no memory, with a changed personality.   


"Such is the nature of the device," the man had said somberly, looking down at Quill with deep. black eyes.  "It will heal his hurts, but it may cause a metamorphosis we hadn't anticipated."   


"He could forget me," Quill said to himself now.   _ And I would deserve it _ .  He was, of course, entirely to blame for everything that had happened.  He had taken his eyes off Adam even knowing that Ayesha and her ilk were in pursuit.  He had led his team in a charge against forces they had no comprehension of, and now Gamora was paying the price.   _ You're one hell of a leader, Quill. _   


He focused his eyes on something outside the window: the small hangar across the street, where  _ Aurora  _ was grounded.  With a sudden pang of loneliness, he turned from the window and made his way out of the bedroom, down the hall, and through the front door.   


The air was surprisingly chilly.  It was refreshing, Quill mused as he started down the front stairs and up the long walkway.  In the darkness, the animal statues were even less welcoming than before. He huffed as he passed them.  
He crossed the vacant street and made his way into the hangar, which was little more than a glorified garage where public transportation vessels were docked.   _Aurora_ seemed out of place among the uniform golden vessels, her impressive wings glittering iridescent silver in the dimness.  Quill made his way to her side, stroking the smooth hull fondly. He remembered the day that he had won her- a young Corpsman at Nova Headquarters had foolishly wagered the brand new, state-of-the-art vessel in a game of cards.  When Quill had inevitably bested him, there were some attempts made to keep the prized ship from his possession, but in the end Rael had taken pity on him. They owed him a kindness, she said, after he had defended them from Ronan.  


He lowered the boarding ramp and walked up, taking a deep breath of the familiar, pine-and-ozone scent of the ship's interior.  He stood in the forgiving dark of the cargo hold a moment. Then, suddenly, a voice above said, "There you are! I thought I had been abandoned."   


Quill started.  In his misery he had forgotten entirely about the enthusiastic new navigation system.  He was briefly irritated to be bothered, but quickly remembered that without her, they would never have gotten help for Adam and Gamora in time.   


"Hey, hon," he said, looking around for a source of the voice.  He didn't see any evidence of a sound system; the voice seemed to emanate from the vessel itself.   


"You don't look so good," she said.  Her voice was overwhelmingly pleasant.  "What became of your injured friends?"  
Quill sat on a box of cans and said, "Gamora's doing alright.  She's not much to look at, but she'll heal up. Adam is... holding on."  


"I'm glad to hear it.  Did you come back for something?"   


"Yeah, to sleep in my own bed."   


That said, he rose to his feet and made his way up the ladder to the main deck.  The voice followed. "Anything you need?" She asked. "Ambient lighting? Calming music?"   


"You can do all that?"   


"I can do anything you'd like."   


By now, Quill had made it to his quarters.  He fairly collapsed into the forgiving softness of his bed.  Here, his own smell washed over him, making him instantly drowsy.  He reached for a pillow, which he clasped over his head. 

From under it, he watched the lights dim.  Then, he was asleep- this time, without dreaming.  
  
When he awakened, sunlight was streaming into his quarters, and above him, a gentle voice was saying, "Wake up, Peter.  Someone's calling."  


Quill blinked a few times, looking around.  His transmitter, stuffed in the pocket of his pants, was buzzing away.  He fished it out and held it in front of him, blinking blearily. It was Richard calling, so he quickly answered.   


"Where are you?" Richard said at once.  "We've been looking everywhere!"   


"I went back to the ship to sleep."   


"Adam's thing is opening.  You've got to get back here."   


Quill practically fell out of the bed.  A sharp pain went up his back as he hurried from the room, making him yelp.  But that hardly deterred him.   


"Are you alright?" SHIP asked.   


"I'm fine.  I'll be back, I promise."   


That said, he hurried down the boarding ramp and fairly sprinted across the street.  By the time he had reached the room where Adam's cocoon laid, he was panting and clutching his back.   


Mantis appeared before him at once, guiding him to a chair by the cocoon.  He sat down gratefully.   


"He's going to need medication," Mantis said to the High Evolutionary, who was watching over the cocoon with a fatherly concern.     


He acknowledged Peter's arrival with a nod and said, "I doubt that it will be long now.  You should be ready to comfort him if the need arises, Mr. Quill."   


"Yessir."   


Quill sat up as straight as his throbbing back would allow, watching the intricate mechanical composition of the cocoon slowly unfold.   


"What's taking so long?" He asked, bouncing his knee.   


"A sudden exit from the device would be alarming, and no doubt harmful," the High Evolutionary replied.  "Be patient."   


Quill let a quiet whine escape him.  Two large struts of metal across the front of the device suddenly retracted, revealing a gem set deep in the body of the device below.  It blazed and twinkled like a tiny star.   


"That must be a good sign," Quill said.   


The device unleashed a hiss and a cloud of steam that smelled of tangy  metal and bitter chemicals.  Quill got clumsily to his feet in a fright,  backing away from the machine.  There was a cacophony of whirring and clicking as the mechanisms keeping Adam sealed away released.  Steam continued to issue forth from every crack and crevice of the cocoon, until the room was damp and hazy.  The smell made Quill’s eye water. The gem set in the metal was blazing; Quill got the impression that it was the source of power for the machine.

Finally, the room fell into silence.  It seemed that the cocoon had completed the process of unlocking.  The steam began to dissipate, revealing that the cocoon itself was open slightly.  The High Evolutionary took a step forward, reaching to gently lift the lid. Quill held his breath.

Inside was a far from appealing sight.  Adam, fully naked, was drenched from head to toe in a viscous liquid the color of maple syrup.  It was soaking his hair and coating his skin, and overflowing onto the floor. Quill wrinkled his nose, but came closer nonetheless.  Adam was very still, the only indication that he was alive the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“He looks the same,” Peter said.  “Do you think he’s different… on the inside?”

“That remains to be seen,” the High Evolutionary replied.  “Let’s get him cleaned up.”

The man reached into the cocoon, apparently unbothered by the steaming fluid, and gathered the naked being carefully into his arms.  Adam was from there carried to a steel slab, where his father began the process of removing the slime from him. As he cleaned Adam’s eyes and nose, Quill paced anxiously about.  As the being’s airways were cleared, Adam gave a little shuddering gasp. Quill hurried to his side.

“Adam, honey,” he said.  “Can you hear me?”

Adam moaned softly.  Eventually he opened his eyes, staring directly up at the ceiling for a long moment.  Quill scarcely dared to breathe. He was studying the minutiae of Adam’s features, trying to find any difference that might indicate a change in his lover.  He could see none.

“Adam,” he said again.  “It’s me, Peter.”

“Pe… ter,” Adam breathed.  “...Peter?”

“Yes, baby, it’s me!” Quill exclaimed, reaching out to stroke Adam’s hot cheek.  “How are you feeling?”

Adam didn’t answer at once.  His gold eyes were locked on Quill, studying him with a fierce intensity.

“Peter,” he said at last, with more certainty.  “Your mother says hello.”

At this, Quill’s heart skipped a beat.  “You saw my mom?”

Adam nodded, a smile appearing now.  “Yes. She told me to tell you that she loves you.”

Quill’s eyes began to sting at once.  “Where did you go, Adam?”

“I saw the Soul Realm.”  Adam drew in a long breath, letting his eyes fall shut.  “I saw so much.”

“You can talk more about it later,” the High Evolutionary said.  “Right now, we’ll get you cleaned up and moved into your own bed.”

“Father,” Adam said faintly.  “There is something we must discuss, as well.”

“All in good time, my son.”

 

In the hour and a half or so that it took to get Adam’s skin and hair freed of the viscous cocoon-fluid, Quill fluctuated wildly between tears and elation.  His primary emotion was relief, of course, but Adam’s words had thoroughly shaken him. The last thing that he had expected to hear from his lover upon awakening from the depths of a coma was that he had spoken to a woman dead for three decades.  He wanted desperately to discuss it further, but the High Evolutionary would not allow it. So Quill merely lingered in unsettled silence, waiting for the man to finish his work.

At last, he seemed satisfied with what he had accomplished, and brought the still-naked Adam to his bedroom.  Quill followed behind like an anxious dog. When Adam had been settled into his bed, wrapped in blankets to keep him warm, the High Evolutionary gave Quill a nod and dismissed himself.

Alone at last, Quill let his tears flow freely.  He gathered Adam into his arms, cradling the being to his chest.  “I thought you were gone,” he sobbed. “I thought I had let them kill you.”

Adam cooed softly from the depths of Quill’s embrace.  “Do not blame yourself for any of this, my dear man. There are plans in the works far greater than you ever could have grasped.”

“What did they do to you?”

Adam considered this question a moment.  “I don’t really remember,” he sighed at last.  “And to be perfectly honest, that is probably for the best.  I know it was enough to send my spirit to the Soul Realm. I met several people, including a very insuffering being who calls himself Eternity.”

Quill, who had settled at the bedside with his chin in his hand, nodded encouragingly.  Adam brushed a drying blonde curl from his face.

“He is as tall as the heavens, and made up of star-stuff.  Bloody git.”

Quill smiled a little, admiring Adam’s shining eyes as he spoke.

“He took me to the Soul Realm, you see, and introduced me to three women.  The first was your grandmother- your paternal grandmother, that is. Eros and Thanos’ mother.”

“Sui-San?”

“That’s the one.  She is quite an impressive creature, if I don’t say so myself.  She told me a great deal about my former life.”

This gave Quill pause.  “Former life?”

“Oh, yes.  Do you remember that picture in the book your father gave me?  Of the man with my name? As it turns out, we share far more than that.  To hear Eternity and the Matriarch tell it, we are one in the same.”

Quill blinked a few times in wonderment.  But clearly, Adam was not finished.

“I was engaged to be married to Thanos,” he said, which caused an unexpected bristle of indignation to course through Quill.  The hair on the back of his neck rose. “But I died before that could happen. My death drove him insane. It was what inspired him to kill all those people.”

“That’s terrible,” Quill said.

Adam nodded somberly, his mouth thin.  “After Sui-San, I met one of Gamora’s people.  Where is Gamora, by the way? I would like to talk to her.”

“She got hurt when we were fighting the Church.  I’ll bring her in later.”

Adam shook himself a little, then picked his train of thought back up.  “I spoke to the first of the Zen-Whoberians killed by the Church. I didn’t understand the meaning of her lesson at first, but now I do.  I know we must do whatever we can to put a halt to the Church’s misdeeds, before anything like that can happen again.”

This was all important information, of course.  But there was only one thing that Quill wanted to know.

“You saw my mother, Adam?”

He nodded.  “She was beautiful, and very kind.  She was very concerned that I take good care of you.”

Adam was freeing his arm from the blankets, reaching out to cup Quill’s cheek in his palm.  “Don’t weep, now. She’s very happy in Paradise. It is a truly remarkable place.”

Quill wiped his eyes.  “I miss her.”

“I know.  She misses you, too.  But she told me that there is a great deal in store for the both of us, and I trust her entirely.”  Adam laughed pleasantly. “She was a bit cryptic, but I’m getting the impression that I must simply come to terms with people speaking to me in riddles.”

“Adam?”

“Yes, my darling?”

“I was terrified that I had lost you.”

Adam looked at him with immeasurable fondness.  “You didn’t lose me. I would wager, in fact, that it will be very hard to lose me.”

Quill grinned.  “I hope so. I hope it’s fucking impossible.” 


	14. Questions and Answers

Eventually, Quill climbed into the bed beside Adam and went to sleep almost immediately.  Adam did not grudge him this; it was clear from his appearance alone that the man was exhausted.  Adam had not thought to ask how long he had been in his healing coma, but he suspected that it had been rather a long time-- he also suspected that Quill had scarcely left his side during this time.  He was distinctly underfed, his eyes sunken and his cheekbones oddly evident; as they spoke his eyelids had been drooping. Now he was snoring contentedly away, one powerful arm draped over Adam's middle.  

Adam sat, wide awake, enjoying the man’s touch immensely.  Though he remembered little of his time aboard the templeship, he recalled longing fiercely for the man.  He had burned up with bitter rage at being taken from Quill’s side, and promised that when they were reunited, they would never be apart again.  He intended, looking upon the peaceful face of his sleeping partner, to make good of that promise. He would fight to stay with Quill if it took the last ounce of life-force in him.

_ The Matriarch said very unkind things about this beautiful, brave fellow _ , Adam thought.  He would make certain that she lived to regret her words.

Without Quill’s talk to distract him, Adam’s mind was a soup of all the things he had experienced on his journey to the Soul Realm.  He may have thought it all just an elaborate dream if not for the immense detail he recalled it in; the sweet, fresh air of the place seemed to linger in his nose, and sometimes he felt as if he were still moving as he had when Eternity had carried him.  Then there were the three women he had met, who he remembered as plainly as if he had met them in waking life. The conversations he had had with the trio were fresh in his mind.  _ I shall have to write them down, when I get back to my grimoire _ , he mused.

Running his fingertips along Quill’s jawline, then over his lips, he gave a great deal of thought to Meredith’s cryptic messages.  Her son would ask Adam something, she had said, and Adam needed to tell him yes. Adam could not begin to fathom what sort of a question this might be, but he also could not fathom ever saying no to Quill.

After a while, restlessness forced Adam to carefully lift Quill’s arm from him and slide from the bed.  His legs were a bit wobbly under him, but he did not let this stop him. He was going to speak to his father, even if he had to drag himself there.  He staggered to the wall and leaned heavily on it. With a glance over his shoulder to where Quill lay in the bed, he continued on to the door of the room and crept out.

The hallway outside was filled with midday sunshine.  Adam relished the warmth on his skin as he stepped into it, feeling energized at once.  His legs growing stronger as he went, he was soon striding down the hallway to the laboratory of the High Evolutionary.  The great man, as anticipated, was pouring over some of his old notes and seemed quite unaware of Adam’s approach. Yet, as Adam reached his side, he said without looking up, “You seem to be growing strong already.”

“I am,” Adam replied, hearing in the slight variation from his father’s usual tone that he was not entirely pleased to see Adam out of bed.  Unperturbed by this, Adam went on, “I came because there is something I would like to discuss with you.”

At once, the High Evolutionary closed his notebook and looked up at Adam, prepared to give his full attention.  Adam smiled peaceably.

“As you may have already deduced, I saw and experienced a great many things whilst I laid in my healing state,” he said.  “I would be happy to tell you about them for your various records, but first there is a question that I would like answered.”

“Of course,” the High Evolutionary replied.  “I will supply you with any knowledge that I am able, my son.”

“Did you know of my previous life?”

“I did,” the man answered simply.

“Were you aware of the fact that it is, in fact, a previous life-- and the former Adam was not simply a being whose name and likeness I happen to share?  That I am a reincarnation of sorts?”

“I am very well aware.  I was instrumental in helping your soul make the journey to a new body.”

This gave Adam pause.  He studied the figure before him carefully, as if he looked closely enough, he may see something that he had not noticed before.  “You have the means to do such a thing?”

“I am practiced in many sciences, and many arts.  And before you ask why I did this, I will tell you: you and I were rather well acquainted, in your previous incarnation.  When you died I knew, as many did, that it was not your time. You had been taken from the world prematurely, before you were able to fulfill your ultimate destiny.”

“So you took it upon yourself to bring me back?”

“No one else seemed to be trying very hard.”

“The Church was.  They were trying to fetch my soul by travelling in time, but they could not reach it.”

“That was my doing, as well, although I had some assistance.  I was well aware of their plots and their dark motivations. I used some of my more arcane connections to form a block of sorts, protecting your past self from their endeavors.”

Adam took a moment to process this information.  Before he had a chance to ask any further questions, the High Evolutionary went on, “I made a point of forming an alliance with the Sovereign.  I knew that they could not be trusted on their own to revive their fallen hero. They were glad to accept my aid.”

“So you teamed up with them to create this body,” Adam said, stretching his hands out before him to examine them.  “How did you go about retrieving my soul?”

“It took some careful spellwork, and a great deal of energy.  But you made things easier for me by being a restless spirit, one who was not ready to be at peace.  You practically came running, desperate to live again.”

“You surprise me,” Adam said at length.  “First, that you are practiced enough in these areas to accomplish such a task.  Second, that you did not tell me.”

“Please don’t take offense, my son,” the High Evolutionary said gently.  “I only kept the information from you to be certain that you could develop a new life, independent of the former.  I did not want you to spend your formative years with this weight on your shoulders.”

Adam sighed.  “Well, despite your best efforts, fate has found me nonetheless.  And I have been assured that I have little choice in the matter.”

The High Evolutionary did not answer, simply watching Adam in a kind of somber silence.  At last, Adam gave himself a brisk shake and said, “Enough of feeling sorry for myself. There was something else on my mind.”

“And what is that?”

“Since I last saw you, my relationship with Peter has… developed.”

“Oh?”

“We have progressed into a bond of a sexual nature, although our attempts at intercourse have been unsuccessful.  I was wondering if there was any reason for that.”

“Describe your problem more precisely.”

“When he attempts to penetrate me, there is significant pain and discomfort.  And before you tell me that it is normal, I thought it would ease off. But Peter tells me that it is abnormal, and he is  _ quite  _ experienced.  I want to find a solution, because I feel very strongly that I want to make love with him.”

“Understandable, of course.  But it sounds as though there may be a problem with your anatomy that I overlooked before.  I shall take a look when I’m free.”

Satisfied by these answers, and with a lot to think about, Adam said goodbye to his father and excused himself from the lab.  His mind was back on Quill; he was thinking about how sweet the man must look, snuggled up and fast asleep, when he all but ran into someone that he didn’t at first recognize.  This figure was covered all over in what appeared to be burn scars, their face lost in a mass of blisters and their hair all but singed off.

“Adam?” The figure said.

“Gamora?” Adam replied at once, feeling his stomach lurch.  “What happened to you?”

“The Church,” Gamora replied.  “Again.”

“Did the Matriarch do this to you?”

“If that’s what she calls herself.”

Adam made an involuntary sound of dismay.  “This is all my fault,” he said miserably.

“You and Peter really are a pair,” she answered at once.  “We’ve spent days trying to convince him that it wasn’t  _ his  _ fault, and now you’re going to start up.”

Adam swallowed, a bit surprised to be chastised like this.  “Are you in pain?” He asked.

“It’s waning.  Mainly, it just itches.”

He went on gazing at her for a long time, until at last she said, “Don’t worry too much.  Your father says that my cellular regeneration is going to prevent too much scarring. The rest will fade over time.”

“And your hair?”

She laughed.  “That’s the least of my worries.”

“What became of the Matriarch?”

“She got away,” Gamora replied, a hint of venom creeping into her voice.  “But don’t worry. She’s going to find out that we don’t give up easy.”

Taking a bizarre sort of comfort in these words, Adam continued on.  He passed into the garden, where the blazing summer heat was causing the lush greenery there to hum and shimmer.  Adam shed his robe, so that he was wandering the place in only his loose pajama pants. He enjoyed the soft soil under his bare feet, and admired the fat bees that buzzed around thousands of colorful blooms.

He didn’t have to question the truthfulness of the High Evolutionary’s words.  As beautiful as the Soul Realm had been, he knew that his soul would never have been content, trapped there.  There was far too much to see and experience here, in this world, with this little family he had grown so close with.

When he was finished wandering the gardens, taking in the fresh air and letting the sun warm his skin, he headed back to his bedroom, intent upon having a bath.  As he was filling the basin with hot water, he heard Quill stirring in the bedroom. He walked to the door, smiling as the big man sat up in the bed, blinking blearily.

“Feeling better?” He asked.

“Much,” Quill replied.  “I just needed a quick catnap, is all.”

“Come and bathe with me.”

Quill did not need to be told twice.  In half a minute, he was with Adam in the washroom, shedding his own clothing as Adam combed through his tangled curls.  Soon, both had settled into the steaming water, face-to-face.

“Father says that I may have an anatomical problem,” Adam said, watching Quill wet his hair.  “That’s why we haven’t been successful in having intercourse.”

“Something he can fix?”

“He isn’t certain.  He’ll need to examine me.”

Quill splashed around a bit.  “I hope he can fix it.”

“I know you do,” Adam replied, smiling.  “I hope so, too.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.  Eventually, Quill asked, “Did my mom say anything else?”

Adam considered what Meredith had told him.  Her instructions had been explicit; Quill would need to come to whatever question he was going to ask on his own.  But that was not the only thing she had told Adam.

“Does the number five mean anything to you?”

Quill considered this.  “Five? I don’t think so.”

Adam sighed.  “Another mystery, then.”

It didn’t matter to him, in the end.  He was content enough to share this moment with the beautiful man across from him-- the man he loved with all his heart.


	15. R and R

While the compound of the High Evolutionary was exceedingly large, it was not without its limits; soon Gamora found herself without anywhere left to restlessly explore.  She had wandered the gardens, investigating each and every plant species that she came upon. There were some that she recognized from her travels-- soft yellow Xanthees and deep red Argo Lilies-- and others, like the enormous, candy-scented rose blossoms, that she suspected were entirely the invention of the garden’s owner.  

After that, she had perused the many rooms of the big house- the kitchen and scullery, the parlors, the library, and the dining room.  She even stopped briefly in Adam’s bedroom, where he and Quill had been almost solely secluded since Adam had awakened three days prior.  What she discovered was that the house, while grand and tastefully decorated, was almost completely empty. There was a handful of servants who seemed to exist only to meet Adam’s many needs-- the High Evolutionary himself did not seem to require food or sleep.  He barely left his laboratory. This was just as well; she found the man highly unsettling.

When she had wandered aimlessly through every room, she turned her attention to the other buildings on the property, one of which was a stable.  She knew of horses because of the time she had spent at the palace of Titan, watching Quill learn to ride the enormous beasts who called the moon home.  The horses here looked nothing like those; they were entirely Sovereign. Gamora stood for a while at the entrance of the stables, admiring the lithesome golden creatures.  One had tossed its silky white mane enticingly, drawing her in. She offered her hand and the horse sniffed her obligingly, then allowed her to stroke its velvety snout.

“These are some fancy horses, right?”

It was Richard, which was hardly surprising.  Everywhere Gamora had gone in the past three days, the man had never been far behind her.  She didn’t mind, of course. His concern was obvious, and she found it endearing.

“Do you know anything about horses?” She asked, turning to watch him approach.

“Not much.  My family never could have afforded them.  But I saw them in Central Park sometimes, pulling the carriages around.”

“Eros offered to teach me how to ride,” Gamora said, returning her attention to the horse, who had begun to nudge at her hand.  “But I said no. I watched Peter fall off too many times.”

“Knowing you, you’d probably be great.”  He came up slowly behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.  He clearly didn’t mind that she was covered with scabbing blisters and probably smelled dreadful.  She smiled softly.

“Anyway,” Richard said at length, “I came here to tell you that Adam’s dad is having a big dinner for us tonight.  Since we’re heading out soon.”

“About time,” Gamora replied.  “I thought I was going to lose my mind from the boredom.”

Richard laughed a little.  “Anyway, he wants us all there.  And maybe after, you and I can find some quiet time to have a talk.”

Gamora turned slightly to look at him, studying the sharp angle of the man’s jaw, his soft mouth.  She looked into his deep brown eyes. “What are you getting at?”

“Nothing!  I just think there’s some things we should talk about.”

She sighed, but didn’t protest further.  Instead she closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of his grasp.

“Oh, I should probably also mention that I sent your girls home,” Richard said after a long time of silence.

“I don’t think they realized exactly what they were signing themselves up for,” Gamora replied.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.  They promised that if you ever need their help, just to give a holler.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

She reached down to gently disengage Richard’s grasp on her.  “I’m going to start getting ready to leave.”

“Before you do, Pete said he wanted to talk to you.”

“Him, too?  You all have so much to chat about lately.”

She left Richard standing in the stable, walking along the garden path back to the main building.  Inside, the mouth-watering smells of dinner were already permeating the air. Gamora realized that it had been a very long time since she had eaten a decent meal, and thought covetously of all the good food that would be put before them tonight.

In the meantime, she turned to head to Adam’s room, where she was sure she would find Quill.  As expected, he was lounging on Adam’s bed; Adam was nowhere to be seen. Quill, who had been flipping listlessly through a book of lushly illustrated maps, looked up and grinned.

“Hey,” he said, “you’re looking better.”

“You don’t have to lie.”

“I mean it.  Your scabs are less terrifying.”

She smiled a bit.  “Richard said you wanted to talk to me.”

“Sure did.”  Quill sat up, setting his book aside to give her his full attention.  She thought he looked uncharacteristically grim, but she supposed that the events of the last few weeks would be quite enough to do that to a man.  “I wanted to make sure that you’re going to take some time off.”

“Off?” Gamora echoed vaguely.

“From the team, I mean.  We’ve all been working hard lately, but you especially have been busting your ass left and right.  And now that you’ve been injured-”

“It’s a temporary injury, Peter.  I’m already healing.”

“I know, I know.  But that doesn’t change the fact that the rest of us have agreed: you need a vacation.”

She stared at him for a long moment, unsure if he was joking.  But he didn’t smile, and his gaze was steady and even.

“A vacation?” She responded at last.  “ _ Me _ , take a vacation?”

“Not alone,” Quill said.  “Richie’s gonna go with you.”

“So you’ve all talked about this?  Making plans behind my back?”

“We’re doing it because we care about you, and we know that if we leave you to your own devices, you’ll work yourself to death.”  He gave her a wry sort of smile. “Please, for all our sake, just take some time off.”

She heaved a sigh, but did not reply.

“Rich has something special planned.  He thinks you’ll really like it.”

“What is it?” She demanded at once.  “You know I hate surprises.”

Quill put his hands up.  “Maybe just this once, you could give it a chance.”

She gave him a baneful look.  “Just this once.”

He looked rather triumphant, but said nothing else.

 

As Gamora had anticipated, dinner was a lavish and excessive event.  That was one of the perks of wealthy friends, she mused as she surveyed the veritable feast laid out before them.  While it was hardly as protein-rich as a Titanian feast, Gamora found that it was even more appealing. On top of the roasted game birds and smoked fish, there were piles of fresh fruit, plates of freshly baked bread, and bowls of chilled soups and salads.

Adam, who was seated directly across from Gamora and dressed in a floor-length floral gown, said proudly, “This is what Sovereign cuisine used to be like.”

“You mean it wasn’t always tasteless oatmeal and freeze-dried meat?” Rocked replied.

“No, no.  Once, before the Enclave took over, we were a species of great creativity and individuality.  Now it’s all about efficiency, standardization. But don’t worry, I’ve a feeling that we will be getting back to our roots soon enough.”

Gamora was too hungry to ask what Adam meant by this.  She simply reserved herself to finding out, and tucked into a plate of fruit salad.

After dinner, when the Guardians were appropriately full and sleepy, Gamora retired to the bedchamber she and Richard were sharing.  By now, she had collected what few things she was taking home with her- mainly, ointments for the blisters and some new clothing that the High Evolutionary had very kindly gifted to her.

“We’re lucky that Adam’s father is so hospitable,” she said to Richard, who was sprawled on the bed in a food-induced daze.  “Peter says we never would have made it back to Xandar in time.”

“We have his new navigation system… thingy, to thank for that.”

“His what?”

“He hasn’t told you yet?  On the way back he accidentally hit a button on the ship that he’d never hit before and woke up some nice lady who helped us get here in time.”

Gamora cocked her head slightly.  “That sounds…”

“Like divine intervention?  You’re telling me.”

Richard rolled over with a grunt, folding a pillow in half to prop his head on.

“Peter says you have a surprise for me.”

Richard sighed.  “He wasn’t supposed to say anything yet.”

“Well, he and I had a nice chat about how you all think I should take a break from the Guardians for a while.”

“You don’t agree?”

She hesitated for a long moment.  “I guess I do.”

Richard gave her an approving look.  “That’s good. Anyway, I won’t beat around the bush.  I’ve been saying that I was gonna take you to Earth to show you where I grew up.  So I was thinking about making good on that promise.”

“We’re going on vacation… to Terra?”

“Sure!  I called home and had a friend set up a reservation for us in a nice little hotel in the city.  We can eat at some of my favorite restaurants, maybe catch a ball game. Most importantly, you can get some good old fashioned R and R.”

“R and R?”

“Rest and recreation, babe.”

“And what will we do if something happens while we’re away?”

“Let someone else deal with it, for once.”

Gamora allowed herself just a hint of a smile.  “Now that you say it, that sounds pretty nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for part 2, folks! We'll be back on Oct 1st with the first chapter of part 3. Hope you're all excited! <3 Jude


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